Red Sky At Night
by rendezvoushero
Summary: FINAL CHAPTER UP! A new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher with something to hide puts Snape's position as spy in danger as well as his life. SnapeOC, R&R! [rated for thematic elements]
1. The New Professor

I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters (besides Morgana). They all belong to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: being the non-spoiler person I am, let's assume HBP never happened. Hard to do, I know, but this is taking place in Harry's 6th year. I wrote bits and pieces of it before HBP came out, so there. And I don't know if Morgana would have been accepted at Hogwarts as a student, being what she is, but I rely heavily on the HP Lexicon and I couldn't find anything to say that she wouldn't have been accepted, so I just assumed she would have been. R&R!

CHAPTER ONE: THE NEW PROFESSOR

* * *

Another welcome back feast, another Sorting song, and another migraine shooting through his left temple weren't making Severus Snape a happy man. Not that he ever was a happy man, unless he was in the middle of making Harry Potter's life hell. But the loud cheering of the students as first years were sorted into their appropriate houses, and the continuing clamor of cups and utensils clanging against the wooden tables of the Great Hall were drilling into Snape's brain at an incredibly uncomfortable rate. 

"Severus, is everything alright?" the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, asked from his place in the middle of the head table.

Snape nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the pain searing through his cranium to stop. _This must be what Potter feels when he gets those visions from the Dark Lord_, he mused. Of course, this thought only angered him even more, and the feeling that his head was going to explode heightened.

"Professor, are you sure you're okay?" Madam Hooch, the flying instructor and Quidditch referee, asked in a concerned tone.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," Snape replied in a biting tone. He stared down at the food in front of him and pushed it away; he needed some tea and one of his Migraine Potions.

* * *

"Who do you reckon the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is going to be?" Ron Weasley asked thickly, for he had just taken a rather large bite of chocolate éclair.

"I haven't heard anything about it yet," Hermione Granger answered. "And I don't see any new faces at the table."

"I hope that doesn't mean Snape finally nailed it," Harry Potter hissed. "It's bad enough he teaches a class that he could easily poison us in; I would rather not be forced to be in a class where he could easily curse us as well."

"Well, if he had, there would be a new Potions Master, wouldn't there?" Hermione said as she continued to look up at the staff table.

"Maybe they're late," Ron suggested. "Wouldn't be the first time; Moody was late the first night too, remember?"

"Probably on account of Crouch having to take the Polyjuice Potion," Harry said darkly, turning to glare up at Snape. "Ha, he looks like he's ready to throw up."

This was quite true. From where the Trio was sitting, Snape's usually pallid face had taken on a sickly ash color and he wasn't touching his food. Professor Dumbledore seemed to be mildly concerned, for every few moments his eyes would drift over to the Potions Master before turning back to his conversation with Professor McGonagall.

"I wonder what's wrong with him," Hermione said in a slightly concerned voice.

"Who cares?" Harry snapped. "He deserves it, whatever it is."

Hermione sighed and opened her mouth to say something, but whatever it was never escaped her lips, for at that moment the huge oak doors of the Great Hall swung open, and the hall went silent. Students craned their necks and kneeled on the hard wooden benches, trying to get a better look at who had interrupted dinner.

Standing in the doorway in an impatient pose was a tall witch with dark, flowing hair and a sparkling gold hat. She wore a brown frock that clung to her shapely body and an amber robe that trailed behind her and squared out her shoulders (in Harry's opinion, it looked like a blazer with rather long tails). Her eyes were dark and rather bloodshot, like she hadn't slept in weeks, her lips were painted a deep red, and her pale skin seemed to shimmer.

A smirk tugged at her mouth as she said, "Sorry I'm late. Got held up at the gates." Her voice was rich and full of life, yet laced with attitude.

"I'm pleased to see you made it safe," Dumbledore said from the staff table. "Please, join us. Mr. Filch will take your things to your room."

The scraggly caretaker limped over to the elegant witch and began to pull the trunks towards the staircase back in the entrance hall. The newcomer watched him carefully for a moment before striding along the middle aisle to the head table.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione, along with the rest of the school, watched in silence as she passed the Slytherin table, her eyes twinkling as she looked them over.

"Who do you think she is?" Ron asked in a whisper.

"I'll give you two guesses," Hermione said sarcastically.

Harry grinned, but watched the head table as the witch looked daggers at Professor Snape, who seemed only too happy to reciprocate. She took a seat between Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, and tiny Professor Flitwick, the Charms instructor.

* * *

After the tables were magically cleared, Professor Dumbledore rose up and waited patiently for the hall to quiet down. "Another year begins. Welcome back to those who have been with us, and welcome to those who have just joined us," he began, smiling out at the students. "I have a few start of term announcements to deliver. First off, because the list of banned items has grown so extensively over the past few years, and we have a short amount of time remaining tonight, I would ask that all of you check your house bulletin boards for a complete inventory of items that have been forbidden by Mr. Filch." He paused for a moment as many of the students suppressed giggles.

"Secondly, considering recent events that I'm sure you are all aware of, new security measures have been put in place to ensure your protection. Please do not be out roaming the corridors after curfew, and do not sneak out onto the grounds in the middle of the night." He glanced over at Harry as he said this, smiling at the young man. "And finally, I am pleased to introduce to you Professor Morgana Cimmerii, who will be filling the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

He could feel Severus' glare as Morgana stood and nodded her head to the clapping of the students. He smiled as she took her seat again, and said, "And now, as I am sure many of you are beginning to feel the lull of drowsiness from the feast, you are dismissed."

The staff watched as the students hurried to the door and funneled out into the hallway, on the way to their respective dormitories. Several of the professors continued chatting amongst themselves as they rose and made their way to the entrance hall.

"I trust your journey went well, Morgana," Dumbledore said lightly. "Lemon drop?"

Morgana smiled. "No, thank you. And yes, it was rather comfortable. I dropped one of my trunks at the gate and it burst open; that's why I arrived late," she explained as she walked with him into the expansive hall.

"And I trust you received your class lists and have your lessons planned out for tomorrow?" he asked as he popped a lemon drop into his mouth.

"Yes, sir. Everything is all prepared," she answered calmly.

"And we won't be having any problems with…" Dumbledore's voice trailed and he raised an eyebrow at the young witch.

"No, sir. I have a trunk with more than enough for the year. I need to keep it cold, though, so it stays fresh…Perhaps one of the unused dungeons?" Morgana asked, pausing in front of the grand marble staircase.

"Perhaps, but for now, I would suggest ice," Dumbledore said cheerily. He noticed Severus lurking at the bottom of the dungeon staircase and added, "Now, I must run. I will see you tomorrow morning, Professor."

"Good night, sir," Morgana said, turning to the stairs. "And thank you for the job!"

Snape watched Dumbledore wave to Morgana and descend the stairs before stopping in front of him, obviously waiting for Snape to begin ranting about the new professor. "Yes, Severus?" he asked calmly.

Snape sighed. "Sir…you realize what Miss Cimmerii is capable of doing–"

"Severus, I trust Miss Cimmerii as completely as I trust you. I am fully aware of what she could do to the students, and I am confident that she is capable of restraining herself," Dumbledore stated with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

_You're the one that hires all these half-breeds,_ Snape thought. "Yes, sir, but even half-vampires can sometimes be tempted," he whispered.

Dumbledore's cheery blue eyes bored into Snape's cold black ones. "I trust her, Severus. And I _forbid_ you to 'let slip' the nature of Miss Cimmerii's condition as you did with Remus'," he instructed, pointing a long finger at Snape. "She knows more about you than you would like to think."

Snape glared at the headmaster and clenched his fists around the sleeves of his robe. "Good night, Headmaster," he hissed, turning on his heel.

"Good night, Severus," the old man's voice echoed down the dungeon corridor.

Snape slammed the door of his office and sunk down into the uncomfortably hard chair behind his desk. Why in the world would Dumbledore be foolish enough to trust someone who was half vampire? It was insanity! She could be working for the Dark Lord, sent to spy on the school…or sent to spy on him and make sure he was doing _his_ job of spying on the school. It was bad enough that he had to use every ounce of his energy to close his mind from the Dark Lord, who was one of the most skilled Legilimens in the world. The consequences would be horrible should he ever find out Snape was a double agent.

Snape ran a pale hand through his oily black hair and sighed. His migraine hadn't settled down yet and it was pointless to continue worrying at that hour. He would deal with Miss Cimmerii when the time came. Rising out of his seat, he left the dark office and descended further into the dungeons to his rooms, well concealed from the prying eyes of curious students as nothing but a blank wall between an empty candle holder and a muddy tapestry.


	2. Shock Therapy

A/N: I hope you're all enjoying this so far. I promise it'll get better as it goes along. As always, R&R!

CHAPTER TWO: SHOCK THERAPY

* * *

Morgana had momentarily forgotten where she was, and when she opened her eyes the following morning, she nearly screamed when she realized that she wasn't in her dark bedroom back home. The sun was pouring through the high arched windows and the scent of fresh dew leaked into the room. 

_Hogwarts.__ You're at Hogwarts because you're a teacher now,_ she thought as she caught her yelp in her throat.

She looked around; her robes, amber and brown as always, had been laid out by house elves during the night, along with a hot cup of tea that must have just been made. She ignored the steaming mug and launched herself at the dark trunk hidden in the corner, murmuring a spell to unlock the complicated wards. She heard a faint click and wrenched the lid up, faintly smiling at the hundreds of small phials of red liquid that was her lifeblood. Literally.

Morgana carefully lifted one of the glass bottles out of the trunk and swirled it around, watching the sunbeams being caught and distorted within it. She pulled the cork stopper out and sipped eagerly, draining the phial of all the blood it contained.

It wasn't a practice she really enjoyed; she would have given her right arm to be normal, but her damn mother just _had_ to go and fall in love with a vampire. She could still remember when her eyeteeth and incisors had come in, sharper than hell. Biting her tongue was the most painful thing the young girl had ever endured.

Professor Dumbledore, being the kind and accepting man that he was, had still allowed Morgana to attend Hogwarts; after all, he had allowed a werewolf to be accepted only two years earlier. As a child she didn't suffer from a horrid longing for blood, and therefore wasn't a large threat to her fellow students. She had been a tad disappointed when she was sorted into Slytherin, but that quickly melted away during her first year. She had been liked by lots of the students in her house, even those that were older than her, and relished in the limelight they gave her when they found out she was part vampire.

She smirked and stared out the window as she remembered her life as a student. The thrill of sneaking around after hours with some of her classmates, blowing up a cauldron in Potions, eagerly reading through her Defense Against the Dark Arts book into the wee hours of the morning…

This particular memory jolted Morgana back to reality, and she remembered that in an hour's time she would be the one teaching.

"Oh, Merlin's beard," she whispered as she pulled three more of the blood-filled phials out of the trunk and slammed the lid shut. She glanced over at the clock resting on the wrought iron bedside table; it was seven forty-five, and breakfast usually began at eight. "And then class is at nine…wonderful," she moaned, and roughly grabbed her white bathrobe before heading into the bathroom to shower.

The hot water that ran over her face did nothing to help her wake up; in fact, it only made her want to crawl back under the heavy blankets and sleep the day away. Knowing she would fall asleep in the shower, Morgana quickly shut the hot water off and felt a shockwave run through her body as the frigid cold water hit her skin. She rinsed the honey scented soap off her pale body and stepped out, wrapping the robe around her and pointing her wand at her hair. She muttered a charm and a gust of hot air blew around her head, drying her hair.

She dropped the white robe and pulled on her bra and underwear, followed by her brown dress, and then her amber robe. She decided against wearing her hat, and instead magicked her sable hair into a half ponytail, with flowers of gold filigree holding the messy bun together.

She checked the clock again: eight fifteen. Stuffing the phials into her bag, along with her lesson plans, parchment, and spare quills, she hurried out of her room and down the several flights of stairs towards the great hall.

Along the way, she ran into a young witch with rather bushy brown hair.

* * *

"Oh, good morning Professor Cimmerii!" Hermione said in a cheery voice as she bumped into the new teacher near the bottom of the stairs. 

"Good morning…er…" Professor Cimmerii looked at her apologetically and said, "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"Hermione Granger, sixth year, Gryffindor House," Hermione announced, extending her hand.

The professor shook her hand and smiled. "Hermione…yes, I believe I saw your name on the roster for my first class," she said as they continued down the stairway. "I really do hope I do alright today."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Hermione encouraged. "Professor Snape must be so mad! He's been teaching here for sixteen years and he's wanted your job the whole time."

A smirk flickered across the young woman's face as she said quietly, "Is that so?"

"Oh, yes. He knows a lot about the Dark Arts. You see," she lowered her voice to barely a whisper, "Professor Snape is a Death Eater."

Professor Cimmerii didn't seem at all amazed by this; in fact, she nodded. "Yes, I know. But I'm not too worried about him. He's just an arrogant git."

Hermione stared at her professor incredulously.

"But you didn't hear that from me," she added quickly as they entered the Great Hall.

Hermione smiled and said, "I'll see you in class, Professor!" as she made her way over to the Gryffindor table at the far end of the hall. Professor Cimmerii waved and walked between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables to the staff table.

"Getting on her good side so early, are we?" Ron asked sardonically as Hermione took a seat beside his younger sister, Ginny.

"I just ran into her on the staircase," Hermione replied as she bit into a piece of toast and began to pour over her Defense notes. "Seems confident about teaching," she muttered.

"She's rather pale," Harry observed while stirring his porridge. "Like, Snape pale."

Ron nodded in agreement. "I wonder if she's worried about him. Snape, I mean," he added when Harry gave him a confused look.

"She isn't," Hermione said from behind her notes. "She must have gone to school with him. She called him an arrogant git."

Harry and Ron burst out laughing. "When did she say that?" one of them asked.

"On the stairs, but she said not to really tell anyone she said it," Hermione answered quickly. "We've got her class first, you know."

"Wonder what _that's_ gonna be like," Ron said, chuckling as the door burst open. "Oh, speak of the git…"

* * *

Professor Snape strutted into the Great Hall and made a beeline for his seat at the staff table. His Migraine Potion had been effective, although he still had difficulty getting to sleep the previous night. Why that was, he was unsure, but he felt no need to ponder on it any more than necessary. 

As he sat down, he caught the last bit of a conversation between Miss Cimmerii and Professor Dumbledore:

"…I'm going to tell them in class," she was saying.

"Well, that will come as quite a shock to most of them, as you can imagine," Dumbledore replied in a serious tone.

"Yes, but I feel it necessary," Morgana insisted.

Dumbledore simply nodded and smiled at her, and she made her way back to her seat between the Astronomy and Charms professors, both of which began to strike up a deep conversation with her.

"Good morning, Severus," Dumbledore greeted him.

Snape did not reply; he was too deep in thought. She was going to tell her class on the first day of school what she was? Was she out of her mind? It might have impressed many of the older students in Slytherin back when they were in school, but these were very dark times, and he was sure many students would be writing home to parents who would be less than thrilled to learn who – or what – was teaching their students.

He smirked at this; a possibility for him to achieve his dream job was always reason to smile, especially when the professor would be doing themselves in. It would certainly be a victory for him to see Miss Cimmerii packing up at the end of the week, sacked by the Ministry.

"Professor Snape." The voice coming from behind him was feigning sweetness and laced with poison.

He turned to see Morgana standing behind his chair, glaring down at him as she waited for him to acknowledge her. "Yes?" he said in a bored tone.

"I was hoping to ask you for the key to dungeon thirteen," she requested, although it seemed more like a demand than anything else.

"And just what would you need to store there?" he inquired, peering up at her.

"Frankly, that's none of your business," Morgana snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

Snape rose out of his chair, towering over her. He searched her face for a flicker of fear, but found none. "Dungeon thirteen is the coldest dungeon in the castle. I wonder…" He held his chin between his thumb and middle finger, his index finger grazing his thin lips. An evil grin spread across his face as he hissed, "Of course, it does need to be kept cold in order for it to stay fresh, doesn't it?"

She didn't answer, but continued to glare up at him as if she were restraining herself from slapping him across the face. He snorted and plunged a hand into one of the pockets of his black robes, and pulled out a silver key ring with several keys attached to it. He plucked a rather small key off and handed it to her. The number 13 had been engraved near the top.

"I wouldn't let too many students see you down there," he said silkily. "It is common knowledge that thirteen is always empty and unlocked. People might think you were up to something."

Snape sneered at her and left the table, robes billowing out behind him. He caught a glimpse of her face before he left the hall, and was quite pleased to see it was one of rage.

* * *

Morgana glared across the hall at the thin, greasy haired man as he strutted out into the hallway. She was sure Dumbledore was still talking to her, but she was too busy thinking of the many ways in which she could injure the oh-so-kind Potions Master. 

_Well, that's an easy one. Find him in a dark corner and take a sip,_ she thought darkly, grinning.

"You mustn't allow Severus to get under your skin, Morgana," Dumbledore suggested in a quiet voice. "He wins when you do. And we all know how much he enjoys winning."

"Oh, he hasn't won, Professor. The games have only just begun," Morgana said offhandedly as the loud bell rang to signal the start of class. "Well, I had best be off, sir. I will see you later."

She rose from the table and hurried out of the hall to the first floor, where several of her students, mostly Gryffindors, were patiently waiting outside the door. She felt a smile tug at the corners of her rouged lips when she saw Hermione Granger wave at her from the front of the crowd.

"Excuse me, please," Morgana announced as she made her way through the students, tapping her wand on the doorknob, and pushing the door open. She couldn't help but run her tongue over her pointy eyeteeth as she heard the distinct sound of each of the students' young heartbeats. "Now, if you would kindly take your seats…"

The Gryffindors filed into the classroom, hurriedly claiming desks and saving seats for friends. Morgana made her way to the front of the class and leaned on the mahogany desk; her dark eyes widened as she surveyed the class, which seemed anxious to hear the new professor speak.

"Good morning," she said in a hushed voice. "I am Professor Cimmerii, as you all now know. Now, before we begin, I have a few simple rules for you to follow. The minute you set foot in this classroom, all personal matters will be forgotten. I do not want to be responsible for students being sent to the hospital wing because they were too caught up in worrying about whether they were still meeting their boyfriend in the Astronomy tower to properly block a jinx." She looked pointedly at several of the female students, who blushed.

"Food and drink are banned from this room as well, unless I give you specific permission, which will not happen that often. Meal times are for food consumption, not class time," Morgana continued, and several more faces blushed and glanced at their bags. "Any reading material that does not have to do with the class will be confiscated. I expect your full attention in this room.

"I am available during breaks and will be in my office one hour after dinner every night if you require assistance with any of your homework. And," she paused, watching the class as intently as they watched her, "if I hear any of you criticizing your fellow students while in this room, the punishment will be swift. In dark times as these, we do not need to worry about how Mary's defensive stance makes her look like a hag or how Joe's counterjinx had absolutely no affect."

Not one student moved as she finished her speech, too worried that she would be able to tell if they were upset by these new, rather strict rules. Morgana was pleased; the effect she wished to have upon the students was pretty much there, but she hadn't quite finished yet.

"As I understand it, you are all quite familiar with certain…_oddities_ when it comes to several of your teachers." There was a general murmur of agreement and a few students nodded their heads. "You might as well add me to your list."

"Why?" an Irish voice, no doubt Mr. Seamus Finnigan, asked from the back of the room.

"Because, Mr. Finnigan, I am half vampire."

There was a unanimous gasp as the words escaped her lips and reached their ears. Many of them twitched nervously in their seats, others looked like they were ready to run for the door, while Hermione raised her hand high into the air, albeit with a look of slight fear on her delicate face.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Morgana said, repressing a grin as the class winced at her voice.

"Professor, how did you manage to become a witch? I thought vampires weren't allowed to be in possession of wands," the young witch asked politely.

"Ah, a tale for another time, Miss Granger," Morgana whispered. "But for now, I have an assignment for you all. Considering how chaotic your lessons in this class have been over the years, I would like to get an idea of what you all feel would be of the most importance to learn. Therefore, I want you each to choose one topic related to this class, explain why you believe I should discuss it, and give any relevant information you can on the subject." She tapped the blank blackboard behind her and the task appeared in very fluid writing. "There is no set limit for this essay, but I will not accept what looks like a note scribbled on a scrap of parchment. I expect writing skills demanded of sixth years."

Books, parchment, quills and inkwells were pulled out of bags, and the familiar scratching of quill to parchment filled the room. Morgana took her seat at the head of the class and gazed at the students before her. As she focused on each of them, she could hear each distinct heartbeat, some rushed and rapid from the shock of her announcement, others slowly calming as they settled into their work.

"Miss Brown, if that is not a reference book, you had best put it away," she hissed at Lavender as she tried to sneak a copy of the latest beauty magazine into the binding of her textbook. The girl pouted and stuffed it back into her bag. "Do not let me see it again," Morgana warned.

_Not bad for your first day,_ she thought to herself, thoroughly pleased. _You managed to send most of them into shock _and_ you gained their respect and attention all in one day. Not bad at all._

"Professor Cimmerii?" a male voice asked.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Um…what if we've already covered the subject, but we feel it should be taught again in greater detail?"

"That is perfectly acceptable, Mr. Potter." She gave him a feeble half-smile and he went back to work, flipping eagerly through his textbook and scratching notes down onto the parchment.

Forty-five minutes later, the bell announced the end of class. Morgana rose up and watched as several of the students launched themselves out of their seats, happy to be leaving the lair of a vampire.

"Excuse me, but I do not believe I dismissed you," she said in an irritated tone, and every one of them paused to look at her. "As much as this seems like an empty request, please do your best not to mention my genealogy to the rest of the school. I would like to tell them myself." She heard many of them snort, which irritated her even more as she waved a hand and allowed them to leave.

"I trust that went well?" a warm voice said from the fireplace.

Morgana turned her head and nodded to Professor Dumbledore as he emerged from the green flames. "I suspect many of them will be in need of shock therapy, but yes, it did."

"You realize that by your next class, the entire school will know what you are?" Dumbledore chuckled, smiling. His blue eyes twinkled in the sunlight and gave him a rather childish aura.

"Yes, sir," Morgana sighed. "But if they could handle Remus, I'm sure they can put up with me."


	3. The Dueling Club, Part Duex

A/N: POSSIBLE MINOR SPOILER FOR HALF-BLOOD PRINCE TOWARDS END OF THIS CHAPTER, FYI! And I'll probably wait a few days before I post chapter 4, so some more reviews can come in. Thanks, Mish Michelle, for your reviews! Also, I realize the spell _Flipendo_ is not canon (it's from the video games), but I needed a spell that would literally flip someone into the air. Enjoy!

CH 3: THE DUELING CLUB, PART DEUX

* * *

By the end of the first week of school, it came to nobody's surprise that the truth about Morgana Cimmerii's heritage had spread like wildfire throughout the school. By the end of September, rumors that she had been working undercover in Transylvania had also surfaced, giving the students much to talk about as Halloween neared.

"I wonder if she'll turn into a bat at the feast," a Hufflepuff student thought during break one morning in early October.

"Yeah, she and Snape can lead that cloud of _real_ bats around the great hall," another one joked, realizing only too late that the professor was within earshot of their conversation.

"Twenty points from Hufflepuff!" Snape growled as he passed the children, glaring at them.

It was common speculation amongst the student body that the Potions Master assumed the shape of a bat and flitted around the school during the night, searching for unaware rule-breakers in the corridors. This, of course, was an absolute absurdity. Snape prided himself on being able to swoop down on any student roaming the hallways after hours simply because he was good at finding them.

But nevertheless, he allowed the rumors to continue. It only added to his reputation of being the most feared teacher in the school. This, however, was soon being challenged by none other than Miss Cimmerii, who apparently governed her classes similar to his own methods of teaching.

Students in his own house had began to annoy him with constant questions about the new professor, as if he was supposed to know everything there was to know about her simply because he had gone to school with her. Others wondered why she frequented the glacial cavern of dungeon thirteen every night, a question that Snape was sworn not to answer…although he gave them hints.

Snape glided into his seat at the staff table and helped himself to a piece of toast and a cup of strong tea. Dumbledore had asked him to attempt at being a little more accepting when it came to new staff members, but how could Snape ever be more accepting to someone like Morgana? He knew her from when she was just a pathetic little first year, terrified of him and his friends because they were third years and the rumor was that Severus himself knew more curses than half the seventh year combined. For half her first year, she could always be seen hiding away in the corner doing her homework, looking shyly up at the older students.

And then Snape had woken up one morning to find the entire Slytherin house in a complete uproar. He could remember the scene as if it had happened yesterday: He was coming out of the boy's dorms to go and brush his teeth, and there was a large group of people surrounding someone that must have been very short, and they were all ogling over the person. It just happened to be Morgana, and she was beaming at everyone.

As it turned out, Morgana had shed a little bit of light on why she had so quickly been sorted into the House of Salazar. People were pointing at her very sharp teeth, whispering and smiling in fascination. Her father had been a vampire and she was therefore half pure evil.

And from that moment on, she was the most popular girl in the entire Slytherin house. This angered Snape more than anything, because his pride existed solely on the attention he received whenever he showed off some amazing curse that nobody else knew; now, all this little first year had to do was smile and there was cheering from all corners of the common room.

It didn't help that when Snape returned at the beginning of his seventh and final year, Morgana had blossomed from a prepubescent little girl into a fully developed, beautiful young woman. And he had felt his stomach do somersaults the moment he saw her in the Great Hall at the feast.

As Snape pulled his mind back to the present, his toast practically untouched, he angrily realized that his stomach had tightened noticeably when she had arrived at the school a month earlier.

_Why? She's still the same arrogant twit you once knew. Nothing has changed,_ he thought as he tapped his black wand against his cup and watched it refill itself.

And yet, she had changed. Dramatically. Her skills in Legilimency and Occlumency had developed into what was expected of a full-fledged vampire; it would take just as much of Snape's power to shield his mind from her prying eyes as it took to guard himself from the Dark Lord. It unnerved him to know that he would never know if she was lurking in a dark corner, waiting for her chance to catch him off guard and…well, bite him. This was a stupid thought in and of itself, because Dumbledore had forbidden her to allow the evil buried inside her soul to emerge at any time while she was inside the castle. But still…

Snape watched her continue her conversation with the Headmaster, mesmerized by the confidence with which she carried herself, how it seemed to shimmer off her already iridescent skin. He felt his thin lips twist into a smile as he caught a whiff of the honey and vanilla perfume she was wearing.

_Are you bloody mad?_ He asked himself, turning back to his toast and glaring at it as if it had committed some horrible sin. He continued to stare down at his plate, keeping his eyes in check as they kept drifting back to where the half vampire was sitting.

_You must be mad, Severus_, a rich voice echoed in his mind.

_Get out of my head, Miss Cimmerii._ He glared down the table to see her smirking in his direction, her black-brown eyes shining in the sunlight. He watched her rise and glide down the table and stop behind his chair.

"Yes?" he hissed.

"The Headmaster has asked me to make an attempt at a second Dueling Club. He has requested that you assist me in this endeavor," she explained in a silky tone.

Snape could not repress his laughter; it infected him like poison. "You realize that the last Dueling Club was a complete fiasco?" he said curtly.

"I understand the last time you had an incompetent git who knew less magic than Filch as the instructor," Morgana snapped as she placed her thin hands on her hips. "And I am not asking you to do this for me, I am asking for the sake of the students and their safety."

_Well that's not much incentive for me to agree, now is it?_ Snape thought as he continued to sneer at the woman in front of him. "When were you planning on hosting this little charade?" he asked in an uninterested manner.

"After dinner," Morgana replied. "The first meeting will be tonight."

Snape groaned and rolled his eyes, very reluctant to agree to this debacle of an idea. Then again, he may be able to show this cow what a powerful wizard he really was. "Very well," he finally muttered.

Morgana gave him a smirk worthy of his own and returned to her seat, continuing her conversation with Dumbledore where it had apparently been cut off.

Snape remained seated, becoming more and more enraged with himself as his stomach tightened uncomfortably when Morgana's deep, dark eyes drifted momentarily to stare into his own. He thought he saw her blush before she reverted her gaze back to the headmaster.

Thoroughly pissed off with himself, he decided to leave and retreat back into the secluded dungeon office he occupied. He sat behind the dark wooden desk and exhaled a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. He needed to get a grip. There was no way in hell he was going to let this woman walk all over him at the Dueling Club tonight, which, he was sure, was going to go just as badly as the first one. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and relaxed, only to hear the bell ring and students rushing down the stairs to the Potions classroom. Unwillingly, he followed them in and slammed the door shut.

* * *

Dinner that evening was full of gossip about the newly reformed Dueling Club. Most of the student body felt that it was a good idea, although it probably wouldn't work out in the end. A few old members of the D.A. had suggested to Harry to start up the classes again, but due to a considerable amount of homework from his N.E.W.T. classes, it was highly unlikely that that would be happening any time soon.

Morgana remained in the Great Hall after supper to clear the four house tables away and set up the mats on which the students would be landing on, should they be jinxed or cursed. After only a few minutes, dozens of purple pads lined the stone floor.

Morgana had decided that it would be best to take her evening dose of blood immediately after dinner instead of before, so the adrenaline rush she acquired would still be there when she was dueling. She was in the middle of removing it from the pocket of her robe when Professor Snape joined her in the hall.

"A little pick-me-up before a fight, eh?" he sneered as he neared her. The black robes that usually billowed out from behind him had been removed to reveal a black frock coat and black trousers.

Morgana did not reply as she drank the thick liquid, perfectly aware that Severus was watching her do so. She smacked her lips together and placed the phial back in her robe. "Nothing like a little blood to calm the nerves," she hissed at his look of disgust as the students began to file into the room. She waved her wand conjured up a long stage with one long purple mat covering it. "After you, Professor," she said to Snape, motioning for him to step up onto the stage.

The students gathered around the long table, pushing and shoving to make sure they all had a good view. Morgana could tell most of them were here to see the two professors duel each other rather than learn how to duel themselves.

"Good evening," she said, and the hall became silent. "According to the Headmaster, there was an attempt made at a Dueling Club a few years ago, which seems to have ended just as quickly as it began." The student snickered and nodded. "Therefore, Professor Dumbledore has asked Professor Snape and myself to make another attempt at it, as these are dark times and you all need to know how to defend yourselves."

She glared at the man in front of her as he rolled his onyx eyes. "We will give you a quick demonstration, after which you will divide into pairs."

Snape's eyes glittered maliciously as he pulled his own wand out of his pocket.

Morgana smirked at him and removed her amber robes, tossing them behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end as she felt adrenaline surge through her body; she was almost sure that her usually dark eyes were becoming very red, something that normally happened after she imbibed blood. Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard someone whisper, "Look at her eyes!"

The two professors bowed to each other and raised their wands in front of their faces; Morgana glowered at Snape, who was more than happy to return the favor, as they turned and took their defensive positions. Snape rose his wand hand over his head and stuck his left arm out for balance, his legs spread at shoulder length. Morgana's wand was out in front of her while her other arm was curved up and over her head, index and middle fingers loosely pointing at Snape.

"One…"

Morgana's wand twitched in her hand.

"Two…"

Snape's left eye seemed to be having a spasm.

"Three!"

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Snape shouted as Morgana yelled, "_Protego!_" and deflected the Disarming Charm.

"_Protego_ is a shield charm," she explained quickly as both of them took up their stances again, Snape glaring at her. "It will protect you against minor hexes and jinxes."

The words were barely out of her mouth before Snape shouted, "_Incarcerous!_"

Thick ropes shot out of the tip of his wand and wrapped themselves tightly around Morgana, who struggled for a moment beneath them before using her wand to burn through them.

When the last of the ropes had fallen to the floor, she pointed her wand at Snape and exclaimed, "_Furnunculus!_"

Ugly boils began to erupt all over Snape's sallow face. Morgana could not help but laugh, and in her moment of vulnerability, Snape yelled, "_Flipendo!_" and sent the young woman flying backwards to the edge of the platform.

Groaning in pain, she quickly lifted herself up and, with madness in her eyes and fury boiling away at her heart, she pointed her wand and began, _"Levicor –"_

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" Snape bellowed with hatred burning in his eyes. Brilliant white sparks rushed towards Morgana and forced her arms to lock at her sides, her legs to snap together, and her entire body to go rigid. She fell backwards onto the mat, her neck throbbing when it couldn't recoil from the force of the fall.

She could hear several gasps and a few snickers, but none of them effected her the way Snape's faint, horrid laughter did. It made her want to sink her teeth deep into his throat and drink until he was within an inch from death. She watched as his shadow loomed over her, his face expressing pure triumph even with the unsightly spots welling up on his cheeks. He made no attempt to remove the jinx.

"Well, I can see that this has, once again, been a wasted effort," a calm but irritated voice said from the head of the table. "_Finite Incantantum._"

Morgana leapt up and turned to face Professor Dumbledore, who looked very upset with both her and Snape. She dared to glance at the Potions Master, whose face was now boil-free and unreadable. However…

_Stay out, or I'll do worse,_ his voice said inside her head.

_I'm terrified, really, I am_, Morgana thought back.

_Enough, the both of you!_ Dumbledore's voice intruded. "I am sorry about this, students. You may return to your dormitories now," he said, and the young witches and wizards departed at a rather fast pace.

When the last student was clear of the door, Dumbledore's expression turned sour, as did his tone. "I had hoped that this would be another, perhaps better way of helping the students learn the skills necessary to protect themselves in the wizarding world once they leave this school. Now, I see it was merely a way for you two to behave like children and take your anger out on each other, and I will not tolerate this." His voice was wrought with anger as he looked sharply at the two young professors.

"Sir, I apologize, we –"

Dumbledore raised a hand to cut Morgana off. "You will both act like the responsible adults that you are, not the naïve children you once were. Whatever grudges you may have, you will deal with them in a civilized manner." He sighed and a troubled look flitted across his face. "Now is not the time to be making more enemies than need be," he said in a grave tone. "Good night to you both."

They watched the old man walk regally out of the hall. Morgana felt horrible; in no way had she meant to anger the headmaster. She hoped Snape felt the same way, although his pallid face was still blank.

She gathered up her robe and waved the stage and unused mats away while Snape extinguished the candles and replaced the house tables. Morgana stared at him from the doors, the hatred that had been pulsing in her heart replacing itself with a feeling she was not sure about. It made her neck hairs rise again, but she didn't feel angry; she felt nervous. He looked somewhat handsome in the moonlight that seeped through the windows as he walked towards her and the doors, the shadows dancing on his tall form.

Morgana found herself backing into the wall, her hands shaking slightly. Snape stood in front of her, looking at her, expressionless.

"Severus – I –" she whispered.

She felt his hand on her cheek and his face came dangerously close to her own. His breath was warm on her lips, and she felt his graze hers ever so softly before he left, disappearing through the doors and down into the dungeons. Her pulse raced and the place on her face where his hand had been tingled, and she, somewhat angrily, realized the emotion her heart had been so desperately seeking and had finally found.


	4. The Christmas Spirit

A/N: So, the end of this chapter was rewritten. Thanks to pudella's review, I realized how fast the story was moving, and realized that it was moving waaaaay too quickly. So I decided it was time to put pen to paper and start the beginning of the end of this story. Not sure how many more chapters it will be, but hopefully I won't leave you hanging like I did before. As always, enjoy and R&R!

CHAPTER 4: THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

* * *

Halloween had been quite a letdown for many of the students. Not only had Professor Cimmerii refused to conduct the bats around the hall, she hadn't shown up at the feast. Professor Dumbledore said that she was feeling under the weather, but nobody could ignore the fact that Professor Snape's chair had also been empty during the celebrations.

More rumors began to fly through the hallways throughout the month of November and into December, speculating that Morgana and Snape were having an affair and didn't want anybody to know about it. Both teachers were amused by the wild idea, but they hid their emotions from each other and the students. As it was, they were both very confused about what exactly had passed between them during that moment after the Dueling Club.

Snape knew that he didn't want to think about it. He pushed the memory back into the far recesses of his mind to collect dust and cobwebs, like so many other unwanted memories. He knew he had tried to kiss her – he knew he had desperately wanted to – but he could not bring himself to face the simple truth that this brought to light. He was more disagreeable than ever as a result.

He had many reasons for hating all the people he did. Hermione Granger, for instance, was too smart for her own good and was always irritating him. He loathed Harry Potter simply because of who his father had been, and how "friendly" they had been at school.

Miss Cimmerii was a different story. He hated her because he was so attracted to her. He hated her because she was so intelligent, so graceful, and so incredibly beautiful that he knew in his heart of hearts that it was hopeless to resist her. He hated her because he cared about her in a way he hadn't felt possible.

November hadn't been the best of months, weather-wise and tension-wise. It rained practically every day, and when it wasn't raining, it was so cold outside that it was pointless to venture outside the castle walls. The dungeons were always cold, but they had become so icy that even Snape, who usually didn't mind the chill, had decided to take his breaks up in the Great Hall. With its several roaring fires, it was the warmest room in the castle.

This change of scenery, however, proved to be a bad idea, because Morgana had found a boggart in one of the trunks by the fireplace closest to the staff table, and had brought all of her third year classes to fight it. Of course, it was only after her first class had been dismissed that she noticed Snape was watching them. She had then become so flustered that when she faced her own boggart (a rather terrifying man with red eyes, pale skin, and the same brown hair as Morgana that Snape could only assume that it was her father), she screamed and stood frozen for a few moments before shouting "Riddikulus!" and laughing uneasily as the boggart disintegrated into a pile of ash.

So Snape, grimacing, had retreated to the staff room.

Snape had begun to take his rage out on his students, for lack of anyone else to be cruel to. He was generally rude to anyone who wasn't in his own house, but lately he had even been yelling at Slytherins in the hallways just for talking. He had been so tempted to drown Potter in his own cauldron during Potions one Friday, but instead snapped a ruler against the side of the pewter vessel and watched in glee as one of the sharper splinters gave the annoying prat a cut across the cheek.

His mood did not improve at all during the month of December. A potion he was making his fourth years make required ground vanilla beans, a scent that Snape had come to associate with Morgana, and he subsequently failed everyone. With Christmas around the corner, the house elves had begun to put up garlands of holly and mistletoe wherever they saw fit; four times on the day many of the students were leaving for the holidays, he had caught students sucking face in the hallways. All four houses' points had been reduced to double digits from Snape's evident rage.

"Severus?" Dumbledore's calming voice echoed from the hallway outside his office.

"Enter," Snape said, waving his hand at the door.

The Headmaster was the only bright thing in the room besides the candle on Snape's desk. He was dressed in robes of bright red, with white lining. He was obviously trying to imitate St. Nicholas. "Aren't you just a bit cold down here, Severus?" he asked, smiling.

"Not in the least, Headmaster," Snape lied, a shiver running down his spine.

Dumbledore smiled. "It's Christmas Eve, Severus. Come join the rest of us in the Hall," he requested, gesturing towards the door.

Snape looked up from the tests he was grading and laid the quill on the desk. He stared blankly at Dumbledore, searching for some hidden reason for why he should join in the festivities when the old man knew he was against such things.

"Miss Cimmerii has remained at the school," Dumbledore said offhandedly, suddenly becoming interested in his fingernails.

Snape's eyes widened and he could have sworn his heart had just leapt into his throat. Why did Dumbledore think that the mention of Morgana would make him want to join the party? "Has she?" he asked in a bored tone.

Dumbledore's eyes glittered knowingly. "She was wondering where you were," he said quietly.

Snape's jaw dropped, much to Dumbledore's amusement. "I'll – I'll be there in a moment," he muttered.

"Excellent." Dumbledore stepped out into the hall before doubling back. "Oh, we're giving our presents tonight, by the way." With that, he left the Potions Master in a state of disarray.

* * *

Morgana was on her third glass of elf-made wine. She knew it would take a lot more to get her drunk, but a little voice inside her head was telling her that she needed to slow down.

_He's going to think you're a slob if you drench your new dress in red wine,_ she thought as she placed the glass down on the table.

After the students had gone up to bed, Dumbledore called the staff into the Great Hall and suggested that they have a small Christmas party. Most of the staff had agreed to this and returned a few minutes later in their dress robes. Professor Snape was not among them.

Morgana had been fighting her feelings for the Potions Master ever since that strange night after the dueling fiasco. She had been so attracted to him at school that she flat out denied it. He was so powerful, so smart, so handsome…and instead she was a complete bitch to him. And it was the same now, although she was more accepting about her feelings nowadays.

But vampire love could turn nasty. Her mother was a perfect example; she had so many bite marks from her father it was amazing someone didn't call the police on them. It was dangerous to get involved with someone – some_thing_ – like Morgana.

_But who says Severus isn't up for a little danger?_ She smirked at the thought of him willingly allowing her to bite him.

"Severus will be here momentarily," Dumbledore whispered as he re-entered the hall.

The shock that shot through Morgana's body was enough to make her drop her glass, and she watched it shatter as it hit the floor and sprayed her green gown with red. She sighed and wished she could slap herself without allowing people to see. "_Reparo,_" she uttered, and the glass was back in its original state, sans wine.

"Clumsy, aren't we?" a soft voice said from behind her.

Morgana's stomach tightened so much she thought she might scream. She turned to face Snape, who was smirking with pride at the obvious effect his voice alone had had on her. "It's nice to see you too, Severus," she said, her voice shaky.

"Is it?" He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, his black eyes glittering.

Morgana did not answer. She knew what he was looking for, what he wanted her to say, and her obvious answer was yes, it was nice to see him. But she wasn't going to give him the pleasure of knowing. Not yet, anyway.

"Ah, he's here! Everyone gather round, we can start handing out presents now!" Dumbledore exclaimed rather like an overly excited first year.

Morgana followed the rest of the teachers to the large bag that Dumbledore had left in the middle of the hall. His long white beard trailed on the floor as he bent over to pull a few boxes out and place them on the table. He looked at the tags hanging off the ribbons and called out several of the professors' names, handing them their gifts.

"Morgana, these three are yours," he said, and three average sized boxes were placed in her pale hands.

She took a seat as Dumbledore said, "Severus, here's yours!" and looked at the tags on each of her presents. The first one, wrapped in dark blue, was from her mother; the second was from Dumbledore and was wrapped in gold. The third, wrapped in dark green and tied with a silver bow…was from none other than Professor Severus Snape.

Her eyes widened as she looked quizzically at the package. Why in the world would he get her a gift? She looked up and peered across the hall at him. He was giving his gift the same confused look. Morgana blushed and quickly looked away, and tore through the wrapping paper. It took every ounce of willpower for her not to shriek in laughter, for inside was a twelve-pack of Honeydukes own Blood-Flavored Lollipops.

"How thoughtful," she muttered as she put the box aside and opened her other two gifts; her mother had sent her a few new records (Beethoven, Chopin, and Mozart) and Dumbledore had given her the greatest gift box of sweets ever. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Chocoballs, Chocolate Frogs, a Fizzing Whizbee, sugar quills…the list went on. She had enough candy to last her until school was over, and then some.

She glanced back over at the lollies Snape had given her, and plucked one out of the package. She grimaced; it was very sweet, much too sweet to be real blood, but close enough all the same.

Shortly afterwards, the party ended and the teachers dispersed to their appropriate rooms, each carrying a few presents in their hand and either sipping on a bottle of butterbeer or enjoying a piece of candy. Snape seemed to have disappeared; Morgana felt a little disappointed that he hadn't lingered, but perhaps she would see him later.

She said her goodbyes and goodnights, and returned to her dormitory, only to feel a strong desire to visit the Astronomy Tower. It took her a few minutes to climb the long staircase to the top, and when she arrived and took a deep breath, her heartbeat settled down. She leaned against the battlements; a light snow had begun to fall over the grounds, and each flake that landed on her bare hands seemed to take forever to melt.

_Well, that's what happens when your body temperature is incredibly low,_ she thought, smiling.

"Aren't you cold?"

Morgana didn't turn around; there was no need. "No," she said as her smile widened. She saw a tall black form rest its hands on the stone parapet, his robes fluttering out behind him in the breeze. "It takes a lot for a vampire to get cold."

"And a whole lot more for her to get warm, I dare say," Snape whispered silkily.

Morgana blushed, embarrassed. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to ignore the heat growing between her legs. "Thank you, by the way," she said, breaking the awkward silence between them.

"For what?"

"The lollies."

Snape grinned. "Oh, those. I thought you might like them," he said, shrugging. He turned to face her and asked, "So how were they?"

"They're a bit on the sweet side," Morgana admitted, aware that every inch of her was dying for him to hold her.

"You don't like sweets?" he asked in a rather husky tone.

Morgana groaned. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered, staring at him longingly.

"Doing what?" he asked innocently.

"If you want to do it, just do it!" she cried.

"Do what?" he said, a mischievous smile playing across his face.

Morgana couldn't restrain herself any longer. She grabbed the collar of his robe and pulled his face close to his, and kissed him. She could feel Snape melting into her as his lips touched hers. She imagined that her lips were quite cold compared to his, which were surprisingly warm. His hands snaked around her waist, pulling her closer, deepening their embrace. She released her hold on his collar and ran a hand through his black hair, entangling her delicate fingers into it.

All the while, Morgana was desperately trying to ignore the burning sensation accompanying his touch, and slowly, her lips moved from his, down his chin, to rest on his neck, where she continued to plant soft, supple kisses. She listened to his breathing, as it became heavier with the increased rate of his heartbeat, which was pounding in her ears, sending her into an unstable frame of mind. Quickly Snape's breathing faded, and all Morgana could hear was the roaring of his heart, the rush of blood that poured through veins mere millimeters beneath his pale flesh.

Her eyes darkened and she curled her upper lip, revealing pearly white – and dagger-like – eyeteeth. Slowly, her open mouth descended and grazed the skin on the Potion Master's neck, before –

"What the hell are you doing!"


	5. Houston, We Have A Problem

CH 5: HUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM.

Common sense flooded back to Morgana, and she let out a loud gasp before stepping away from Snape, who was clutching at his throat and staring at her with a look of mixed fear and confusion.

"Severus – I – I never –"

"Is this why you've been tempting me these past two months? Why you've been invading my thoughts…why you've been trying to seduce me?" he accused, drawing his wand and pointing it directly at her heart.

Whatever fear Morgana thought she had seen in Snape's onyx eyes had faded and was replaced with sheer fury.

"No! I never meant to harm you!" she cried, tears welling in her eyes.

"Then why did you kiss me?" he demanded.

"Me? _You _kissed me at the dueling club back in October!" Morgana yelled, pointing her finger at him.

Snape opened his mouth to argue, but knew it was folly to try. Yes, he had kissed her. But it was barely a kiss! He had hardly felt anything when their lips touched that night, how could she have made it out to be anything more than what it was?

"Severus, please……You must believe me. I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you or any other person in this building," Morgana pleaded, almost as if she was begging him not to go running to the Headmaster and report what had almost happened.

_And I have half a mind to do it, too_, Snape thought as he continued to glare at her.

_You wouldn't!_ her voice echoed within his head.

"Morgana, get out of my head!" Snape screeched, his hands balling into fists of rage.

"Severus, please, listen to me. If you go to the headmaster and get me fired, it will mean my end. I can't go back into the real world, not anymore, not after what I've done to him," Morgana whispered, clutching at the battlements for support as all color faded from her face and she became faint.

Snape watched her, unsure if what she was doing was just another act, or if she was truly afraid of what might happen to her if she left the protection of Hogwarts. "What do you mean, what you've done to him?" he asked cautiously, calming himself down. His wand remained in his hand, albeit not at ready position.

"Not…not here………he might hear……" she whispered as she slipped down to the floor of the tower, her breathing ragged.

Snape was quickly becoming concerned about Morgana's health. "Er……Miss Cimmerii, you didn't happen to forget your dosage of blood for the night, did you?"

Morgana's eyes snapped open, and she nodded. "Yes, I did. That explains why……I have to get to the dungeon, quickly. If I run into any students they could be in danger," she explained, forcing herself up and rushing through the doorway to the staircase leading down the tower.

It was difficult for Snape to keep up with the fleeting half-vampire. Not because she was much younger than him – three years wouldn't make that much of a difference. But because of the speed she inherited simply by her breeding. Her father, being the wretched vampire that he was, had the ability to 'shimmer' from one place to another, appearing to Apparate at a moment's pause. Snape, of course, knew that Morgana could not be shimmering, for she hadn't enough strength left to unlock the padlock fastened to the rusted handle of dungeon thirteen. Sighing at her pathetic weakness, Snape turned the key and thrust the door open, hit by a sudden blast of frigid air.

"Dammit!" she muttered as she threw open the several large trunks lining the walls. Empty phials soon began to roll across the uneven stone floor; one found its way over towards the door and stopped with a light tap to Snape's boot.

"What's wrong now?" he asked, irritated at how cold the dungeon was.

Morgana did not answer; she was too busy chugging three, four, maybe even five phials of the crimson liquid and throwing them violently back into the trunks. Her eyes were terrifying, even to Snape, for now they were darker than his.

"There……there isn't enough left to finish the year," she said in a hushed, terrified voice. "I know I packed more than enough for the year…how could I be so stupid!" She kicked over an apparently empty trunk she was standing in front of in frustration, and glanced worriedly at Snape. "I could find a…"

"I will not let you harm one of the students!" Snape yelled, glaring at the half-vampire in disgust.

Morgana's face went crimson with rage. "How _dare _you presume to think I would go after one of my own students? Do you think me that immoral? That evil?" she retaliated as she ran her hands up and down her arms in an attempt to stay warm.

Snape sighed. "Come on, there's no use arguing in here. It's freezing. My chambers are down the hall, and are a good thirty degrees warmer than this place," he suggested, holding out his hand to the young witch strewn on the cold stone floor.

* * *

The woman stared at the pale hand for a moment, studying it. Rough calluses covered much of his palm, no doubt from the current job he held. There was something else about his hands, though…they were a far cry from delicate, and nowhere near gentle-looking…Morgana caught herself wondering how his hands may feel…

"Miss Cimmerii?" Snape asked, sending a puzzled look her way.

Morgana brought herself out of her reverie and took his hand, allowed him to pull her off the floor and close to him. She could hear his ragged breathing as she looked deeply into his onyx eyes and could only imagine what thoughts were rushing through his mind.

He led her in silence back into the main passageway and around the corner back towards his office. But instead of taking a second turn, as Morgana expected, they stopped in front of a cobweb-covered torch and an otherwise bare wall.

"Erm…Severus…you can't really expect me to explain my life story in the middle of a passageway," Morgana said, befuddled.

Snape rolled his eyes as he whispered a charm to unlock the wards on the seemly bare wall, and smirked, proud of the dumbfounded look on Morgana's face. The bricks rearranged themselves into an archway resembling what happened when one wanted to visit Diagon Alley, and a cool breeze rushed past them as the air in the room balanced itself with the hallway. Snape went first, waiting on the other side of the doorway for Morgana to step into the room.

"Are you coming or not?" he snapped.

Morgana scanned the archway of the door and took a deep breath before entering the Potion Master's chambers, preparing to pour her heart out.


	6. History Revealed

A/N: Alright, well finally we have a little bit of a problem building that should lead to an eventual climax in this story! Haha. Here it is, chapter six. When I wrote this one, I had the whole thing planned out in my head, so I kinda just went with whatever came to mind, so I couldn't really separate between Morgana and Snape's p.o.v.'s. So hopefully they're clear enough that you can figure them out! As always, R&R! Thanks so much to the recent reviews from shawnalou!

CHAPTER 6: HISTORY REVEALED

* * *

Snape's chambers, although warmer than the dreary dungeon thirteen, were not at all 'warm'. The Potion's Master kept his rooms at a temperature that allowed for constant goosebumps and had anyone who entered make a beeline for the dark green sofa in front of the fire. 

Morgana had settled herself at one end of the couch, trying to relax but finding it increasingly difficult as she listened to the slow pace of Snape's boots along the stone floor. She wished he would sit down so she could explain herself fully, in the quickest way possible. She leaned back and waited impatiently.

As he approached the couch, she felt his fingertips run gently across the back rest and ever so lightly graze the back of her neck. She breathed in deep; she knew his games and was not going to be sucked into one right now.

Later, perhaps.

"Now, Miss Cimmerii, what –"

"Please, stop calling me that, Severus. We've known each other long enough for you to be able to call me by my name," Morgana interrupted.

Snape's lips curled into a grin and he ignored the comment, continuing, "What was it you wanted to share with me?" He took a seat at the opposite end of the couch, leaning against the arm rest with a look of boredom etched on his face.

Morgana paid little attention to his expression. "My father," she started, "Alistair Cimmerii, he worked for…for Lord Voldemort."

Snape's eyes widened slightly, but he quickly covered his emotions with a stoic mask. "And?"

The young vampire sighed. "He would be gone for days at a time, my mother would have no idea where he went or when he would return. She became depressed; he was the only cure for it. Every time he returned, they would go to their rooms for the night, and the next morning she would emerge with dozens of scars on her neck and chest. It didn't matter how much make-up she wore to hide them, I could always see them. I could always see how she needed that pain to remember how much she was 'loved' by him." Morgana closed her eyes, pushing the violent images of memories past trying to emerge.

She took a breath and continued. "I found out he was working for the Dark Lord in my seventh year. He had been asking me non-stop about the school, about any secret passageways I might know of. I thought it best to go directly to the headmaster and tell him."

"I'm sure that did a lot of good," Snape mumbled, feigning little interest when his body language suggested he was raptly attentive.

"In fact, it did," Morgana retorted. "He was planning on finding his way into the school that very night and killing a few of the students as a threat to Dumbledore. The headmaster put the wards up at their maximum security, and he wasn't able to enter."

"Of course, you had told him the passageways in, correct?" Snape asked, leaning over slightly and inching closer to Morgana.

"No, never!" she exclaimed. "He asked someone else. Either way, my father figured out who had told the headmaster. He…" Her voice faded and any light from her eyes faded as she stared into the fire.

"He what, Morgana?" Snape asked, concerned. He then watched, stuck in a rut of confusion and conflicting emotions as tears welled up in the woman's eyes. Only one fell, and it slid gracefully down her pale cheek. Without thinking Snape raised his hand and wiped it from her face.

Morgana turned her head to face him, and shouted, "He killed her! As a warning to me never to betray him again! He killed my mother!" She buried her face in her hands. "He murdered her and disowned me. And then he told Voldemort what I had done. He's been watching me ever since his return to power, which is why I came here." She lifted her head and sighed again, willing the tears to go away. "Lord Voldemort will kill me if I screw up again."

Snape watched from the sofa as Morgana rose and stood in front of the fire, resting a delicate hand on the mantle. The light played beautifully off her pale skin and green dress, and he found himself moving to stand next to her, fighting the urge to hold her.

"Eventually she resorted to magic, my mother," Morgana whispered, "to cover the scars. It used up so much of her energy. Sometimes she had to be taken to St. Mungo's for a blood replenishing potion, she would lose so much. She sacrificed everything for him…and he was her undoing."

She looked at Snape, whose penetrating onyx eyes were staring intently at her. Her own dark eyes welled with tears again as she said, "Which is why I'm so afraid of you, Severus."

His emotions betrayed him as a look of utter shock swept over Snape's face. "Why would you ever think I could do such a thing?" he hissed, taking a step back.

Morgana took his hands in her own. "Afraid of you because of what you're doing to me now, Severus. You saw what happened in the tower! When I'm with you, I can't think straight…my mother was the perfect example of how vampire love can turn horribly sour." She looked at their joined hands, not willing to look back at his face.

"But you're only _half _vampire, Morgana. You can control it," Snape whispered, slipping a hand out of her grasp to tilt her head upwards. "I'm willing to risk it."

Morgana smiled. "Why?" she asked.

He drew her face close and brought his lips to hers as he pulled her body close. He hadn't felt so drawn to a woman since…well, he didn't want to remember the last time, for it ended with his life in disarray. Morgana was here, now, and he wouldn't lose her.

She broke away from him and tried to whisper, "Severus, I –"

He silenced her with another kiss. "I know," he said quietly, and stared longingly at her. He noticed the bags under her eyes and the lull that had slowly begun to pull her eyelids shut. "But for now, sleep," he said, and led her to his bedchamber.

Drowsiness or not, Morgana could not help but gasp at the simple yet beautiful décor that filled the room. Hanging on one of the stone walls was a tapestry of the Slytherin crest, the silver thread still glimmering as if it had been made yesterday. Black wooden bookcases lined the room, filled with books no doubt containing some very dark magic. A wooden bureau sat next to the doorway to the bathroom, and a large four-poster was placed at the other end, the black and silver hangings tied to the posts. A dark green quilt covered the mattress, with serpentine patterns slithering their way across the fabric.

When she was settled underneath the blankets, Snape stared momentarily at her, and tried to burn that moment into his mind. How peaceful she looked when she was sleeping. If what she told him was true, then there would be very little peace left in her life, at least until the Dark Lord was destroyed.

With one last glance, he drew the hangings around her and made his way back to his office, loosening his collar as he went. He had too many papers to grade to waste time sleeping.


	7. Honesty Need Not Be Feared

A/N: While writing this chapter (which was originally going to be split into two, but I didn't have enough in either section, so I combined it!), I really started using Snape's first name. And I realize that I haven't done that a lot throughtout the rest of the story, but I feel like now that they're becoming more intimate, its ok? Ha, I dunno. I had an impulse and I went with it. And I just realized, I posted one chapter a day for like, 3 days! That's some accomplishment, lemme tell you! OK, enjoy!

CHAPTER 7: HONESTY NEED NOT BE FEARED

It was nearly midnight, and Severus was nowhere near finished with his sixth-year papers. He had just finished grading Granger's, who unfortunately, received full marks for her eight rolls of parchment on the proper uses of acromantula venom. Potter's was next, and it brought great delight to Snape when he realized that the Boy Who Lived had much the same paper as Granger and Weasley. A twisted smile appeared on the man's tired face as he scratched a large red 'F' at the top of the paper. He would wallow in Granger's embarrassment when he brought up what their punishment would be.

After grading several more dismal papers, Severus let out a yawn and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Lucky for him tomorrow was Christmas Day, and there was no need for him to get up early. He stood and stretched, making his way back into his bedchamber. When he noticed Morgana fast asleep in his bed, he realized that he had nearly forgotten she had been there.

He took a few steps closer and simply watched her sleep. Her dark brown hair splayed out around her head, almost creating a dark halo. The wizard smirked at the irony of it; she looked like an angel, but her soul was laced with evil.

Severus inched closer, wanting so badly to wake her, cradle her in his arms, and claim her as his own. He could even do it without waking her and she need not know …but no. He was not the young, impulsive Death Eater he had once been. At thirty-seven and fighting for the chance to purge his soul of the evils he had committed as a youth, raping the woman he cared about the most was probably not the smartest idea in the world.

And oh, how he cared for her. He knew he didn't show it very often – there was no way he could do so without revealing to the students that their god-awful Potions Master had a 'soft side'. The nights he spent, lying awake, wishing she were with him, were becoming unbearable. He was tempted to climb into bed with her, just to sleep next to her and breathe the scent of vanilla that radiated off her skin; to just be able to hold her in his arms. But he knew it was too much to think of doing right now. She had just spent the night confessing her past to him, reliving memories she had surely buried. Waking up next to someone like him was something Severus didn't want to put her through.

Heading towards the bureau, he unbuttoned his robes and tossed them onto the chair next to the bed. Out of the bottom drawer he pulled a pair of faded black pajamas. Not in the mood to put the top on, he drew the pants up over his legs and went back into the sitting room.

Why _did_ she care so much about him, anyway? He was nothing special. He was a snarky, purposefully rude man; he wasn't anything to look at, in his opinion. He knew he was smart, but what girls were attracted to smart men these days? Not many. And, to add insult to injury, he was one of the higher standing members of the Dark Lord's inner circle. From her recollection of her past a few hours prior, Death Eaters didn't seem like they would be very high on Morgana's list.

Of course, she wouldn't kiss him if she weren't attracted to him.

Another thought crossed his mind at that point: did he love her? It was too soon to tell. He knew what words she had meant to say to him last night – she was going to tell him she loved him. But he wanted to be sure he loved her as well. And at the present, Severus wasn't sure about anything. Getting involved with someone like Morgana could prove very dangerous if the proper precautions weren't taken. Severus didn't want to end up being caught in a feeding frenzy…

He erased the thought from his mind and yawned again. It was too late to be thinking of such things. It was also a dangerous time, especially for Severus, to become involved with anyone. The Dark Lord wouldn't miss an opportunity to question Severus' loyalty, and Morgana's presence in his life would certainly present one.

He sighed. He didn't want to think about that right now; about how his loyalties and the position he was in could make having a relationship a bad idea. So pulling the throw blanket off the back of the sofa, he settled in for a long sleep.

* * *

When Morgana woke early the next morning, she could have screamed. For some strange reason, she was down in the Potion Master's chambers – in his _bed_, for Merlin's sake! – and he was nowhere to be found. She sat up, allowing her eyes to adjust to the pale candlelight coming from the other side of the room. Severus' black robes were strewn carelessly over the chair next to the bedside table; Morgana tore off the layers of blankets to make sure she was still clothed.

_What in the world…_she began to ask herself, before the memories of the previous night began to flood back. Severus had brought her down to talk to her, to figure out what was wrong. She must have fallen asleep.

Rising from the bed, she smoothed her robes out as best she could and made her way towards the sitting room, only to pause and stare at the volumes of magic books lining the walls. She ran a tapering finger over the spines, carefully taking in each of the titles as she went. Many were about dark magic; even more delved into the darker side of potion making, the side no student at Hogwarts would ever be taught. Most of them, Morgana realized, were titles that could have been found in the library at her own house, back when she lived with her father.

She sighed, pushed back the thoughts of her old life, and continued into the sitting room. The magical fire was still burning, tended to continuously by the unseen house-elves. Papers were scattered across the mahogany coffee table, and lying fast asleep on the sofa was none other than Severus Snape.

Morgana reached a hang out to wake him, but retracted it after a second thought. She took a seat in one of the black chairs next to the fire and studied him thoughtfully. He obviously slept without a shirt, because his bare arms were sticking out over the blanket he was resting under. She was a bit surprised – he was a lot stronger than she believed him to be. With his robes always pulled so tight, it was a wonder she hadn't noticed earlier. In a way, it frightened her; as strong as she was, he could probably overpower her if he wanted to.

She shook the thought. He looked too peaceful when he slept for her to be terrified of him. His lanky black hair fell almost gracefully over his face, and was only disturbed by the even patterns of his breath. Morgana smiled; this was the man that she…

Did she love him? She cared deeply for him, that much she knew. Even when he was being the cold, callous man he usually was, she still loved to be around him more than anyone else in the building. She knew she would rather die than let any harm come to him, especially if _she _would present a danger. She looked at her hand and then at his, and remembered how they had looked joined the night before. Hers were so small and delicate; his nearly enveloped hers. But they felt perfect in each other, as if they were two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together.

Her smile widened and she sank to the floor in front of the sofa. She took his hand in her own and kissed it lightly, knowing then that yes, she did love him, and she didn't want to lose him.

A faint moan escaped the Potion Master's lips as he stirred, opening his bleary eyes and staring down at Morgana. He squeezed her hand tightly in his before his eyelids drooped shut again and he lapsed back into sleep. The half vampire sat vigilantly by her newfound love until she fell asleep on the floor beside him, still clutching his hand.


	8. A Groggy Morning

A/N: Sorry about the delay in updating. I think it was a mixture of having a lot of stuff to get done and losing most of my plot bunnies. But I have returned! Unfortunately, this chapter probably ISN'T what you were all hoping for. But I figured that it was probably about time we saw a little bit of the usual Hogwarts crew again, before we jump back into being alone with Severus and Morgana...haha. Anyway, hopefully this is somewhat up to par!

CHAPTER 8: A GROGGY MORNING

* * *

Christmas morning was rather uneventful throughout Hogwarts. Aside from the usual twelve enormous evergreens Hagrid had pulled in, and the snow falling from the enchanted ceiling, it was a dull day. Not many students had remained at the school, and those that had decided to remain in their dormitories for most of the morning to open presents and spend time with their friends, until they felt hungry enough to venture downstairs. 

Severus and Morgana made their way up from the dungeons together, both bleary-eyed from the lack of sleep. Morgana was sucking on one of the lollies Severus had given her, and he was just finishing off a phial of Invigorating Draught. No doubt he would need it for the breakfast waiting for them in the Great Hall.

Dumbledore never utilized the staff table over the Christmas holidays. There were never enough students left over to fill even one of the house tables, and therefore the entire staff was moved down to one table in the middle of the hall, where they were jointed with whatever students that had decided to remain at the school.

Unfortunately for Severus, this meant Potter and Weasley.

Morgana left his side when they reached the entrance hall, so she could venture up to her own rooms and change into more casual robes. Severus composed himself as much as he could before strutting arrogantly into the Great Hall, shooting the customary glare in the general direction of the two Gryffindors seated at the end of the table.

He stopped behind them and bent low enough to whisper into Potter's ear, "I noticed how…similar your paper was to Miss Granger's. Care to explain how that happened?" A look of utter contempt spread across the younger man's face as he tried to ignore his professor, who was internally smiling with the knowledge that he could ruin Potter's day with a simple sentence. "The same goes for you, Weasley," he said menacingly before drifting down the length of the table to take a seat near the headmaster.

"Good morning, Severus," the old man said in his always-merry voice.

"Good morning, Headmaster," Severus grumbled in reply, reaching for the steaming mug of tea sitting in front of him and taking a swig of it.

"I noticed your hasty disappearance last night after the party. I'm assuming you had a late-night meeting with someone important?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling.

Severus blushed and eyed the headmaster curiously. "What…do you mean by that, sir?" he asked cautiously.

"One can always tell when these things happen," the Headmaster replied sagely. "And your eyes are darker than usual. I know what you look like when you're tired, Severus." A large grin spread across his wrinkly face as the Potion's Master blanched in embarrassment.

Severus stared thoughtfully into his teacup, pondering on whether or not to explain to the headmaster what had happened the previous night. On the one hand, divulging information like that could get Morgana sacked. And on the other hand, it was Albus Dumbledore he was dealing with. Surely he would understand why Severus felt morally responsible to explain why a little added safety to the student population couldn't hurt?

"Is something troubling you?" Dumbledore asked, concerned.

"Headmaster…" Snape paused, unsure of whether to continue. But a question had been burning in his mind, and he needed an answer. "How…how did you come across Miss Cimmerii? How did you get to know her enough that you felt confident in hiring her?"

"Still questioning her ability to teach, even after obviously spending a night up late chatting with the girl?" Dumbledore asked in mock surprise.

"No, sir, I don't question her teaching skills anymore. Where did you find her, though? From what she explained to me last night, she's been in hiding for quite some time. How did you manage to find her and bring her out, especially in such a dangerous time as this?" Severus whispered as more tea appeared in his cup.

Smiling, the headmaster replied, "Quite easily, actually. She found me. She showed up one evening at the door to my office. She knew we needed someone to fill the position, and she knew that Hogwarts was the one place she was truly safe from her father – and from Voldemort."

"How long was she – "

Dumbledore cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I believe, Severus, if you desire more information than I have given you, then it would be only right of you to ask Morgana herself," he suggested as the small amount of diners rose and left the table to clear itself. "And since it seems she is not coming to breakfast, you are more than welcome to journey up to her room and question her." He stood and gave a small nod to Severus before sweeping to the large oak doors and disappearing into the bowels of the school.

The dark-haired man was left to himself at the long, empty wooden table. He placed his cup on the table and watched as, with a small _pop!_, it disappeared. He glanced at the enchanted ceiling, hoping for the swirling, tell-tale signs of a snowstorm. But alas, only blue sky and bright sun shone down, and Severus left the Great Hall with another sigh.

Once out in the entrance hall, he debated upon his two choices. He could return to the dungeons and begin work on his lesson plans for the second half of the year, which would definitely take him all day. Or, he could take the passageway behind the alchemist portrait on the second floor up to the eighth, where he would most assuredly find Morgana.

_And satiate that yearning for answers_, he thought to himself.

_I've got nothing better to do, and we both know drawing up lesson plans is not something you want to start right now. So you might as well come up_, the half-vampire's voice echoed inside his head.

A faint smirk flitted across Snape's worn face, and he ascended the stairs at a normal pace, making a bee-line for the alchemist portrait.


	9. We're Not Safe Yet

A/N: Ok, so I've had this chapter and the next one planned out for a while now, but I needed a good place to put them. So I figured this was the best place. Hopefully these are long enough for people to enjoy. And hopefully I'll have this finished by August!

CHAPTER 9: WE'RE NOT SAFE YET

* * *

Morgana studied the intricate patterns in the down comforter on her four-poster, tracing each curving line with a graceful finger. Her eyelids were heavy, and the bed was so comfortable. It wouldn't be very difficult for her to just close her eyes and become enfolded in the warm arms of sleep; but each time she closed her eyes, horrible visions from the past suddenly brought themselves forward, and there was a continuous struggle to keep her screams at bay.

A faint knock on the door startled her enough that she jumped off the bed and landed in a heap on the floor. "Come in," she groaned, shaking her head.

"Are you alright?" a dark voice echoed through the room. Morgana felt her face heat up as she realized who had just entered her chambers, and hastily stood to greet him.

"Yes, Severus, I'm fine…thank you," she said groggily. "You gave me a fright, that's all. What are you doing up here, anyway?" She took her seat back on the bed and gestured for the older man to do the same.

"Curiosity," he whispered, staring her down.

"Ah." Morgana nodded her head knowingly, her brown tresses falling fashionably across her face. "I was wondering when you would start asking the tough questions."

A guilty grin tugged on Severus's lips and he sighed. He knew how irritating it was to be questioned about one's past. But even _his_ was more open knowledge than Morgana's. Nobody knew a thing about her, and those that did refused to divulge.

Before he could ask, Morgana began speaking, muttering thoughts as they came to her, knowing that if she could trust anyone, it would be Severus Snape. "It's horrible…sometimes just sitting in class, grading papers…and they're just outside the door, going to class or to lunch or who-knows-where…and they sit in class and sometimes…sometimes I get so lost in the beautiful rhythm of their hearts that I need them to repeat what they were saying…it's awful."

Staring blankly at her, not quite sure what course to take, he said, "I'm amazed you've lasted this long. I haven't known many vampires to survive so long in an environment such as this without…succumbing…to forces beyond their control."

"How many vampires have you known, though?" she snorted, drawing her legs up and resting her chin on her knees.

"I knew your father," Snape whispered, turning his glance away from her penetrating eyes.

A faint gasp escaped her lips. "You knew him?"

Severus nodded stoically. "I joined the Dark Lord a few months after I graduated Hogwarts. Your father was one not to be toyed with. He was the Dark Lord's…disciplinarian, as it were. Before you saw the fury of the Dark Lord, you would be…'scolded'…by Alistair."

Her eyes widened with a realization that sent panic down her spine. "Does he know you work here now?" she hissed, terrified.

His onyx eyes looked confused as he answered, "Yes…this is my assignment…why do you ask?"

Morgana slid off the bed and began pacing, back and forth across the room, wringing her hands in fright. "If he knows I'm here, and he's still in the employ of Voldemort…"

Understanding flooded Severus's mind as he muttered, "…Then he could instruct me to bring you in…or kill you."

"And I'm sure you wouldn't have a second thought about doing that," she spat. Severus ignored her comment, and she continued. "What could I do to stop this from happening? I could go to the headmaster –"

"– Who could do nothing –"

"– there's no stopping you from being summoned; Voldemort will know you're avoiding him if you do."

Severus waved a hand to stop her. "This is all based on the assumption that your father already knows you work here," he said assuredly.

Morgana raised an eyebrow and replied, "And with Lucius's precious son Draco as one of my students, I'm sure good old Dad is already well informed of my whereabouts!" She collapsed onto the sofa, pinching the bridge of her nose and clenching her eyes shut. Severus thought she looked as if she were having a migraine, something he knew far too much about. "My supply…it's so low, I can't have another phial until tomorrow morning…and I'm so weak…"

Snape winced as the subject of her unnatural feeding habits was brought back into the light. "We've already been over this. You cannot harm the students, I won't allow it. Hogsmeade is too small for a death to go unnoticed, and with a vampire teaching at the school just up the hill, they'll know it was you," he explained, placing a calming hand on her shoulder.

"There's always the city," Morgana whispered.

Snape looked on the woman with horror. "You would consider risking your life like that? If you leave this castle, Alistair will track you down in moments! Even if you were to get away, you wouldn't be able to Apparate past the gate, and –"

"Severus, you forget what I am!" Morgana shouted. "I can shimmer, remember? The wards on the castle have no affect on me."

"Which means they have no affect on Alistair. He could get in at any moment," Severus reminded her.

"Well thank you for stating the obvious! How do you think he managed it last time?" she said, exasperated. "Anyway, he wouldn't risk revealing you or showing himself. He would do anything to remain in the Dark Lord's favor."

_Wouldn't we all?_ The dark thought crossed Severus's mind as he said, "The headmaster would be horrified if he found out you left the safety of the school to go out and kill an innocent person. You have enough in your stores to last you until March, maybe April, if you keep a rigorous check on yourself. I suggest you wait until then before jumping to desperate measures."

Morgana tilted her head to look at him, but she found in incredibly difficult to look Severus Snape in the eye. She looked everywhere but his face, trying to convince him she wouldn't leave.

"Promise me you won't leave the castle!" Snape yelled, pointing an accusing finger at her.

Morgana stared at the floor and nodded. "I won't. I promise," she whispered.


	10. A Hundred Thousand Words

A/N: This chapter is really dark. I felt the need to bring back at least one of the members of the Trio, since we haven't really heard much from them since the beginning of the story. Otherwise, R&R, and enjoy!

CHAPTER 10: A HUNDRED THOUSAND WORDS COULD NOT QUITE EXPLAIN

* * *

It had only been a month since Severus had forced Morgana to promise she would remain at Hogwarts. And throughout that month, the half vampire was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything besides the constant fatigue she suffered from the lack of blood. The students were frightened of her, more so than when she had first arrived at the school. Her eyes were constantly bloodshot, and her skin had lost its familiar shimmer. A few of the more clever students in her classes had begun to understand what was wrong with her, and made sure to avoid her at all costs.

One morning, when her sixth year Gryffindors were packing their bags and making desperate attempts to reach the door before the bell signaled the end of class, Morgana stood and addressed one of them.

"Miss Granger, may I speak with you after class please?" she said in a weak voice, drumming her talon-like fingernails on the wooden desk in front of her.

She felt a smirk tug on her lips as Hermione blanched, looking desperately at Harry Potter and Ron Weasley for support. They both sent empathetic glances back at her, and Ron shrugged as class finally ended and the students streamed out of the room. Hermione remained at her desk, her breathing slightly erratic.

Morgana made her way slowly over to the young woman, listening to how quickly her heart was beating, reading the fear that was etched all over her face.

"Miss Granger, are you frightened?" she asked quietly.

"I might be, ma'am," Hermione answered in a terrified whisper.

Morgana laughed. "Why? A few weeks ago, you were staying after class to discuss all manner of things with me. And now you're one of the first out the door. Why the sudden change of…heart?" she queried, cocking an eyebrow.

Hermione kept her eyes trained on the empty desk in front of her. "Because…because you always look…," she said the final word with a hint of disgust, "_hungry_."

"Ah," Morgana said, nodding knowingly. "And you believe that because I kept you after class, I'm going to somehow use you to satiate that hunger?"

If it was possible for Hermione to pale any more, she would have. "I…I…" she stammered.

"How do you think I would get away with that, Miss Granger?" Morgana asked in a silky voice, leaning closer to her student.

"You wouldn't!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping up from her desk. "The headmaster would have you sacked in an instant!"

"Yes, he would. Which is why it is absolute folly for you to believe that I would ever touch one of my students," Morgana stated in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Then…then why did you hold me back?" Hermione asked as she attempted to calm her breathing.

"Because I know that you figured out why I've been behaving…stranger than usual, and I don't want you spreading rumors about me. There are enough of them going around as it is; I don't need another one about how I attempted to kill you," Morgana explained. "So please, if you would be so kind as to tell your friends that I am in _no _way going to kill them, it would be much appreciated."

Hermione stared at her professor for a moment before slowly nodding. "Um…I'll do my best to make sure they understand that…that bit," she said in a shaky voice as she gathered her things. As she made her way to the door, she paused, glancing over her shoulder at the exhausted professor. Curiosity crept through her mind, and suddenly she blurted, "What's it like?"

Morgana's bloodshot eyes shot up, looking out from the darkened hoods of her eyelids in a terrifying manner. "Why would you ever want to know?" she asked menacingly.

Hermione shook her head in disregard. "Never mind, it was a stupid question. I had better be leaving anyway," she said quietly, reaching for the door handle.

A rush of wind passed the young woman, and Morgana's icy hand was pressing firmly on Hermione's, preventing her from opening the wooden door to the hallway. "It is a fate worse than death itself, Miss Granger. A fate I would not wish on anyone, even if others felt they deserved it. The very fact that I must survive by killing others –" her grip on Hermione's hand tightened "– sickens me every time I feed. Every time I hear one of you in the hallway, it takes every ounce of my fading willpower for me _not_ to attack you." A terrifying gleam had come over Morgana's eyes, frightening Hermione to the point where she was shaking. "Stalking your prey, night after night; becoming the perfect predator because each time you learn some new tactic that will make you stronger, stealthier…a better killer. Seducing them into a quiet corner, making them imagine insurmountable pleasures while in reality you're only delivering pain. We yearn to be one of you, and while we are so similar in appearance, we are vastly different in every other aspect of life."

Hermione tried to pull her hand away, but it was no use. She knew Morgana was so much stronger than her, even in her weakened condition. "Professor, please…you're hurting me…"

Morgana let out a shrill laugh that sent chills down Hermione's spine. "That's what my first said to me…I didn't know then how to project those images of pleasure and wonder into their minds…hadn't yet learned how to shelter them from the pain of their regrettable death," the half vampire said in a reminiscent tone as she remembered the past. She glanced down at her student's wrist, which was beginning to bruise under her intense grip. She let go, slowly pulling her hand away, and whispered, "To crave someone else's life just to sustain your own, Miss Granger, is something _nobody_ should be curious about. Now, be gone."

Hermione looked as if she could have screamed, but she kept her silence, and rushed out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Morgana slammed the door shut and bolted the lock, collapsing onto the stone floor. She ran a pale hand through her hair and let out a cry she had been holding back since she'd woken this morning. Blood-laced tears streamed down her face and she tried desperately to clear her mind of all the heartbeats pounding away inside her head. That was too close; she had tread on dangerous grounds, far too near the edge of reason.

She had been inches away from Hermione's neck. Mere inches away from killing one of her students to satiate her bloodlust.

_That's it,_ she thought, rising to her feet and brushing off her robe. _I'm sorry, Severus, but I cannot keep your promise any longer. The threat to the students is too great right now. _She walked to the window and threw open one of the panes, stepping gingerly onto the ledge. _I'm so very sorry._ And with a heavy heart, she threw herself towards the battlements, shimmering away from the school in mid-air.

* * *

Moments later, she had arrived in London, in an alleyway beside one of the more seedy clubs in the city. The old haunt was as familiar as ever: young, naïve humans filed into the disco, unaware that one of them was about to meet their end.

She made her way into the club and through the crowds until she came to the bar. Taking a seat, she refused the drink the bartender offered her, and began scanning the room, picking through each individual mind, hunting for the criminal that always found its way into a room full of innocents. After a few minutes of searching, her eyes locked on the corner of the room; hiding in the shadows was a tall man wearing a blue button-down shirt and black trousers. In his mind, she saw all the evil deeds he had carried out, stealing from his mother and father to pay for the drugs he so badly needed.

_Funny._ _I'll be stealing from you the very drug I need to survive,_ she thought morbidly as she gracefully made her way across the room towards him. She projected her image into his mind, drawing him to her in every way possible, making it easier to find him.

He came out of the shadows, his eyes searching frantically for the woman whose features had crossed his mind. She smirked and appeared in front of him.

"Who –?"

Morgana put a finger to his lips and took his hand, leading him towards the service exit at the back of the club. The door opened to the alley, where she pinned him to the brick wall and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. His eyes fluttered shut as she sent more feelings and visions of pleasure into his mind; slowly, she lowered her lips to his neck, and pierced the soft flesh of his throat with her razor-sharp teeth. She could feel her body warming as the glistening red liquid made its way out of the man's worthless body and into her veins. Her eyes closed and she relished in the strength that was returning to her muscles, the fire that made its way back into every fiber of her being. His heartbeat began to fade and the flow of crimson reduced to a trickle, and she released the now lifeless body, watching it slide down the wall into a heap on the ground.

She licked her lips and sighed, happy that she had finally been able to release the killer instinct she had kept in check for most of the year.

A faint glimmer, too noticeable to be a wizard Apparating, flickered out of the corner of her eye. Morgana turned and held back a scream as she faced the man responsible for half of who she was, backing against the wall in fright.

"No…no…" she whispered pathetically.

"Ah, yes……that's my girl! Go for the evil-doers, they always taste better," Alistair Cimmerii purred, his pale blue eyes glimmering in the lamplight.

"Then I suppose the Dark Lord would be a special treat?" Morgana snapped, praying that he couldn't hear the quickening pace at which her heart was pounding.

Alistair moved towards her. "Tsk, tsk, my dear…that wasn't very nice," he scolded, wagging his finger.

"What would you know about being nice? You, who left me and my mother; you who beat her almost every day, you –"

"_Silence!_"

Morgana hissed at her father, jaw set and eyes bloodshot with rage as they welled with tears.

"_You_ gave up your own flesh and blood to the enemy!" Alistair yelled, taking another step towards her, boots clacking loudly against the slick pavement. "You almost had me arrested and sent to Azkaban!"

"And it is where you belong!" Morgana screamed.

Alistair glared at his daughter, the thin line of dark hair on his head standing on end. He took one last step towards her before lunging forward, grabbing Morgana and bringing her down to the wet road beneath their feet. She stifled another scream as she realized that if she was going to die tonight, then so be it.

The vampire put one knee on the ground, and the other square on her back, pinning her so she couldn't move. "How does it feel, daughter, being on the other end of this cat-and-mouse game we all play?" he whispered in her ear as his hand caressed her hair. He pushed most of it aside, revealing the pale, delicate neck she had inherited from her mother. "Oh, how I am going to enjoy this," he uttered as he curled back his lips and brought his mouth down over her throat.

Morgana clenched her eyes shut and prepared for the immense pain she knew was to come, when –

"_Stupefy!_"

A jet of red magic hurled its way at Alistair and knocked him off Morgana, who leapt to her feet and ran in the direction of her protector. An arm snaked its way around her waist, and its owner shouted, "I can't Apparate us inside the school, you'll have to shimmer!"

Morgana willed the both of them back to the school, back to protection, and in a heartbeat they were safe inside the entrance hall. She collapsed to the floor, shaking with terror and clutching instinctively at her wet robes. When her eyes became adjusted to the dim candlelight, she looked up and saw two black eyes peering angrily at her.


	11. Just Another Phase

A/N: Thanks again for all the great reviews. Enjoy!

CHAPTER 11: JUST ANOTHER PHASE OF FINDING WHAT I REALLY NEED

* * *

"How could you?" Severus asked, his face a mix of anger and worry. "How could you break that promise? And risk your life!"

More tears began to leak out of Morgana's eyes as she made a desperate attempt to look at anything besides the man standing in front of her. Both of them had committed their share of sins, but Morgana could not stand to explain to the man she loved why she did the things she did.

"Answer me, damn it!" he hissed, kneeling down beside her and clutching her arm.

"I cannot!" Morgana replied in a hoarse whisper as she made a break for her rooms. She heard Severus behind her, fast on her heels. _But not for long_, she thought, and hitched her robes as she picked up speed along the cavernous corridors of the castle. The door to her chamber was in sight; the door was just within her reach –

"_Incarcerous!_" she heard him shout.

The thick ropes snaked around her legs and pulled her to the ground. For a moment she was seeing spots, her head had hit the floor so hard. But Severus soon appeared, towering over her as he always did, pointing his wand at her.

"What are you going to do, Severus? Are you going to kill me, because I won't tell you the reason behind my foolishness?" she cried as she struggled against the ropes binding her. "Then do so, sir, and be quick about it!"

Severus rolled his eyes and pocketed his wand. "You are being melodramatic. Now hush," he said, and picked her up, carrying her into her chambers and placing her on the sofa in front of the fire.

"I nearly killed her, Severus," Morgana whispered. "I was so close…she was right there, I could have had her…"

"Yes, Miss Granger did seem a bit distressed after her latest encounter with you," Severus said offhandedly, examining his nails.

Morgana was shocked. "She…she told you about it?"

"She saw you leap out the window and disappear. She nearly ran me over in the hallway on her way to the headmaster's office. Of course I had to ask what was wrong, and she explained in some detail," he replied, making his way over to her. "Now I will ask you one last time: Why did you leave?"

Morgana opened her mouth, but no words could escape it. How was she to explain a feeling; a feeling that terrible? In what way could she possibly make him understand the insanity that drove her to the desperate act of hours prior? "Severus……I can't…"

"You lied to me! You made a promise and you broke it!" he yelled, his eyes burning with fury. "How can you expect me to believe anything else that escapes your lips now?"

"I didn't have a choice!" Morgana screamed, and made a mad attempt to remove the magical ropes still wound around her legs.

Severus pulled her hands away from her ankles and pulled her close to him. "You did, Morgana. You _did_ have a choice." He let her drop back onto the sofa and paced the room, his brow furrowed and his mind racing. "And by my own actions I exposed myself to one of the Dark Lord's most powerful agents!"

"You didn't have to come."

"Yes, yes I did."

"And why is that?"

"Because I…" He stopped, the words balancing on his lips, unsure whether to speak them or silence them.

"Because you love me?" Morgana finished, with a hint of sarcasm, her eyebrow raised quizzically.

Severus stared blankly at her. "If you find that my actions were foolish, then I am terribly sorry that I didn't allow you to die in that alleyway tonight," he hissed, each word dripping with venom. "I am sorry you believe my feelings are nothing more than a joke." And with that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door as he went.

Morgana closed her eyes and laid her head back as tears made their way down her cheeks and onto the pillow beneath her.

* * *

Severus stood momentarily outside the door, listening to the muffled sobs coming from the woman inside. Part of him yearned to sit by her side and let her cry on his shoulder, and wait patiently for an answer to come. But his anger won out, and he continued his frustrated walk back down the main staircase to the entrance hall. He didn't want to return to the dungeons; the possibility of running into a few of his students did not appeal to him, and so instead he exited the castle and made his way onto the grounds and down to the shore of the lake. A howl escaped the trees of the Forbidden Forest, and Severus was grateful it wasn't a full moon, or he would be wary to venture so far from the castle without protection. He stared out across the lake, the white moonlight dancing off the surface and giving the illusion that a thousand diamonds were lying just underneath the waves.

The question he had buried in the dark recesses of his mind surfaced again as he watched the small waves break on the muddy shores. What other explanation could there be for why, at the first sign of trouble, he had leapt impulsively into action and Apparated to London, searching high and low for her? How else could he explain his idiotic decision to attack Alistair Cimmerii in a blatant attempt to protect his daughter from an apparent attack?

_You don't have time for love,_ Severus thought coldly, leaning against a beech tree near the shore. He grimaced as he recalled the incident that took place underneath the very same tree twenty-one years ago, where Potter and Black had made a fool of him in front of everyone, including Lily Evans. He pulled away from the tree as if it had burned him with the bad memories of years past, and instead decided to take a seat on the grass.

The sound of the waves calmed him, and he stared at the palms of his hands as he tried to think through the confronting emotions running through his mind. It was true; he didn't have time for love. He was being summoned on an almost weekly basis to divulge information about the movements of Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix to the Dark Lord. Shielding his mind was difficult enough as it without having to worry about Voldemort finding out about Morgana.

_It's too dangerous_, the voice in his head continued. If any of the Death Eaters caught wind of an affair between he and Cimmerii's daughter, there was bound to be trouble. Voldemort could use their relationship against the both of them; he could even pull Morgana over to his side simply by threatening Severus's life if she refused.

Severus hung his head in his hands and shivered as a brisk January wind kicked up, sending the remaining dead leaves scattering around him. The surface of the lake began to ripple, and a few large tentacles rose in and out of the water as the resident giant squid breached in the midnight air.

"You need to figure this out," he said quietly to himself as he began to make his way back to the castle. "Loving her is far too dangerous right now…and yet that seems to be the only word to describe what you feel for her." He was cut off in his monologue by a searing pain that shot through his left arm, and he clutched at the Dark Mark underneath his robes. There was no time to warn Dumbledore; he made his way to the gates and resolved to tell the headmaster everything that had occurred when he returned.

_That is_, he thought morosely, _if you return._


	12. The Challenge of Caring

CHAPTER 12: THE CHALLENGE OF CARING

When Severus appeared in the darkened manor Voldemort had set up as his latest home base, he was met by more than a few shocked faces. He was expecting Lucius Malfoy to glide into the picture at any moment and slyly tease him about his unfortunate situation, but thankfully, Lucius was locked up in Azkaban for his attack on the Department of Mysteries last summer.

"Snape!" an annoyingly familiar voice called from down the hallway, and Severus looked disgustedly as Wormtail came waddling along to meet him.

"Yes, what is it?" Severus asked nonchalantly, brushing off his robes.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you immediately," the chubby servant whispered, wringing his hands in anxiety.

Severus nodded and followed Wormtail back up the hall to a shadowy doorway, where the Dark Lord was seated in a large armchair, his pet snake, Nagini, wrapped around one of the wooden legs.

"Ah, yes, Severus, come here," Voldemort said in a snake-like voice, beckoning the Potion's Master forward with a long finger.

Severus threw himself at the Dark Lord's feet, kissing the hem of his black robes and keeping his face to the ground, his large nose barely grazing the pristine tile floors.

"Severus, I have heard some most disturbing news," Voldemort said in a low voice. "It has come to my attention that earlier this evening you attacked one of your compatriots in London."

"My Lord, please, allow me to explain –"

"Oh, yes, please do!" Voldemort yelled, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.

"Dumbledore had recently instructed me to keep a keen watch over Miss Cimmerii. I could not allow her father to kill her without Dumbledore losing confidence in me. In my opinion, I believed that retaining my position as your spy inside Hogwarts was more important," Severus explained, keeping his voice as unfaltering as possible. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alistair step out of the shadows and stand loyally at his master's side.

Severus felt a sharp kick to his ribcage and was sent reeling along the floor, wincing in pain. He heard the Dark Lord rise from his chair and shout, "_Crucio!"_

Pain worse than anything he had ever endured tore through his body, and he let out a sharp cry as his body bucked against the black marble tiles. He was always prepared for the moment when Voldemort would see through his lies, would see him for the traitor he was, and send a jet of green death shooting in his direction. But he was not as prepared for this, and he cursed himself between screams for foolishly believing that he was above such forms of punishment. The last time the Dark Lord had performed the Cruciatus Curse on Severus, it had been when he was young, foolhardy, and impulsive. Funny, it seemed. His impulsive actions to save the woman he loved had landed him in the same position.

And then, like that, it was over. He rolled over on his side and patted himself down, making sure he was still alive and not just dreaming. He winced as he tried to move; the repercussions of jolting on the hard floors had caused their own pains all over his body. Glancing between Alistair and Voldemort, he wiped his mind clean of any traces of Morgana, and then looked back at the floor.

"I trust you have learned your lesson, Severus," the snake-like voice hissed. Shocked, Severus looked up and gawked at the Dark Lord, who continued, "Never, _never_ attack a fellow follower again, or you will pay with your life."

"Yes, Master," Severus whispered, bowing his head in respect.

"My Lord, on the matter of my daughter," Alistair began, glaring evilly at Severus, "I believe she has become more of a threat to us now than she was when she was younger. She should be taken care of immediately."

Voldemort seated himself again and rested his chin on his clasped hands. A horrid gleam appeared in his eyes as he nodded, and began to laugh. "Yes, yes indeed, Alistair!" he exclaimed. "And who better to exterminate the traitor than you, Snape!"

Severus cringed and nodded his head, slowly and methodically. "I will do what you request, Master," he said quietly.

He could hear the rustle of fabric, and felt icy fingers wrap themselves over his jaw, pulling his head up to look into the face of Lord Voldemort. Two terrifying red eyes peered into his own onyx ones, as a frightening grin spread across his white face. "I want her body in this hall by week's end, Severus. If you fail, she will watch you die."

He stared defiantly into his master's face and nodded again, unable to speak for fear of expressing some excuse for being inadequate for the job. He buried all his feelings of hatred and anger under a sea of calm and feigned excitement for a chance to prove his loyalty.

Voldemort stood up and made his way to a darkened doorway at the back of the room, beckoning Alistair to follow him. "Get out of my sight, Severus. I do not want to see you again until you have fulfilled your duty," he hissed, and like a snake he slithered out of the room, gone from sight.

Severus stood on shaky legs and, with a final glare to Wormtail, Apparated back to Hogwarts.

* * *

As soon as he reappeared, he bolted through the gates and tore up the hill towards the school. A painful stitch began to pull at his stomach, and he collapsed onto the lawn, retching from the pain and the horror of what he had to do. He kneeled on the ground, lightheaded, wishing that there was some way for them both to escape the cruelness of fate. This was all he fault, he reasoned. If he hadn't leapt to her rescue, then none of this would have happened, and Morgana's life wouldn't be threatened. _His _life wouldn't be threatened either.

"Severus," a soothing voice said quietly from in front of him.

The younger man looked up to see the placid blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore staring sympathetically at him. A wrinkled hand extended out to help him up, and when he was standing, patted him paternally on the shoulder.

"What happened?" he asked as they began to walk slowly to the castle.

"Forgive me, Headmaster. I was foolish and impulsive when I decided to come to Morgana's aid last night. And now…" Severus shook his head and closed his eyes, unable to explain.

"He's ordered you to kill her, hasn't he," Dumbledore said gravely.

Snape nodded, a sickly look twisting his face. "There's no way to fake it, sir. He wants her body in the manor by week's end."

"Or the both of you will be killed, and sadly, we cannot risk losing you," the older man said sadly as the wooden doors opened to the entrance hall. The two men walked silently up the staircase to the headmaster's office, where Dumbledore poured each of them a glass of brandy and Severus sank down into one of the plush chairs in front of the headmaster's desk.

"So we condemn her to death, then?" he asked weakly, swirling his drink around the glass.

Dumbledore gave Severus another grave look. "What else is there we can do?"


	13. A Beautiful Lie

CHAPTER 13: SUCH A BEAUTIFUL LIE TO BELIEVE IN

Morgana woke the next morning with a headache and a stuffy nose. There was a large bump on her head from where it had smacked against the stone floor when she fell, and she had practically cried herself to sleep, making the dull ache increase tenfold.

She stared at herself in the mirror – her dark hair was a mess and her eyes were ringed with red, a sign of her fatigue and bloodlust. Her back was sore from where her father had crushed his knee into her, pinning her to the ground. All in all, she was a train wreck, and if it had been a school day, she would have needed someone to cover her classes.

Pleased to know that it was a Saturday, however, she remained in her room for most of the morning, sipping tea and reading through _The Daily Prophet_ and its bland stories of anything _but _the obvious return of Lord Voldemort.

"Stupid morons," she whispered as she tossed the paper into the fireplace. "Fudge wouldn't know terror if it stepped on his scrotum."

A faint chuckle made its way to her ears from the doorway, and she turned around to see Dumbledore standing in navy blue robes, a terribly saddened look on his face. Standing beside him was Severus, with an equally depressed expression.

"Headmaster, Severus," Morgana said quietly, rising to greet them. "I'm sorry; I didn't hear you come in."

Dumbledore nodded and followed her back over to the sofa, where they both took a seat next to each other. Severus made his way to the mantle and watched as the remains of the _Prophet_ were turned to ash, unable to look Morgana in the eye. An uncomfortable silence fell between the three of them, disrupted only by the occasional crack in the fireplace.

"Is…is there something wrong, sir?" Morgana questioned, looking at Dumbledore curiously.

The old man sighed and nodded. "Yes, my dear, something is terribly wrong." He looked at Severus, whose back was still turned to them. "Perhaps you should tell her."

The Potions Master's shoulders sank at the request, and he turned so he was profiled against the dark mantelpiece. His eyes were closed and his brow furrowed in thought.

"Severus, if this is about last night, you must understand, I –"

He held up a hand to stop her. "The combination of both our impulsive actions has the Dark Lord in an uproar," he explained, pacing in front of the fire. "I was summoned a few hours ago to be punished for my own actions……and now I'm forced to punish you for yours." His voice shook as he finished his sentence, trailing off to barely more than a whisper.

Morgana stared at him. She supposed she should have felt fear, or shock, or hatred. But nothing came to her. She could only sit there, absorbing what Severus had told her and feeling absolutely calm about it. If he refused an order from Voldemort, then he would put his own life in jeopardy, and he was a crucial part of the Order. If he were lost, there was no telling what would happen. She, on the other hand, would only put his life and the life of the others in jeopardy if she remained.

"I'll leave," she said, slowly standing and making towards the oak dresser near the window. "I'll leave tonight, so you don't have to go through with it. He can't blame you for losing me."

"Yes, Morgana, he can," Severus said in a scratchy voice.

"Then I'll go to him and turn myself over," she hissed. "I will not let you kill me, Severus!"

At this point, Dumbledore stood and sighed. "It is far too late to discuss matters such as this. Wait until tomorrow, and we will have a meeting to figure something out." He eyed the both of them in an almost grandfatherly way before exiting the room.

Morgana stood between the dresser and the bed, and it was then that the terror of losing her life struck her. Her throat constricted and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe, and collapsed to the floor in a flurry of gasps and tears. Severus kneeled by her side, holding her close as she came to terms with what was happening.

"I don't want to feel this right now, Severus," she muttered into his chest. "I've been feeling like shit for too long now. I need to feel something else, anything but this. I'd stick my hand in the fire if I could, but I'm not sure if I'd burn up or not."

Severus chuckled at the remark. Full vampires would burn as quickly as parchment if placed in the flames; but a half-vampire? It wasn't something he was keen on finding out at the moment.

She stood up and pulled him with her, taking his hands in hers. "I love you," she whispered, holding his black gaze with her amber eyes.

He sighed, a faint smile working its way onto his pale face, and he pulled her close, lips inches apart. He listened to her breathing, how it quickened when he ran the tips of his fingers lightly up and down her arm, how it was warm on his cheek. The gap between them slowly closed as his mouth covered hers, and he could feel her icy hands searching for a way beneath his robes. He pulled away from her, staring at her, how her entire body begged him to allow her to feel something apart from suffering, if only for one night. "I love you, too." The words slipped out as barely more than a breath of air, but he had said them, and he meant them.

She pressed her lips hungrily against his, running a hand through his hair as he shrugged off his robe and began to unbutton his black frock coat. He could feel her hands as they slid down his chest, eager to help him remove the garment; meanwhile her own dressing robe had slid into a pool of cloth on the floor, revealing her creamy white skin and a hunter green slip, lined with silver lace.

"Feeling a bit nostalgic, are we?" Severus asked in a low voice as he played with one of the straps.

"Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin," Morgana replied, tugging his shirttails out of his trousers and pulling the linen top over his head, allowing it to join his robe on the floor.

He slipped a strong arm around her waist and pulled her close, whispering, "I never thought I'd see you in the House colors again," as he planted light kisses down her neck.

She laughed quietly. "Then I hope you took a good look, because they won't be staying on much longer," she murmured into his ear, "will they?"

Severus stared into her eyes, and a faint moan escaped his lips as she kissed him deeply, pulling him down with her onto the bed and into her world.


	14. The Hurt Gets Worse

CHAPTER 14: THE HURT GETS WORSE, THE HEART GETS HARDER

When Snape woke up the next morning, he found lying next to Morgana's sleeping form unbearable. Her fingers were loosely tangled in his, her hair a dark halo around her head. He slipped out of the bed silently and moved into the sitting room, where the house-elves had already rekindled the fire and brought up tea.

He poured himself a cup and drank it black, staring at the fire, deep in thought. There was no way to get around the terrible situation that faced them. Morgana had already gone too far the first time around to be able to change her loyalties without arousing suspicion, and it was clearer than crystal that her father wanted her dead. It would be impossible for her to slip out of the country without giving Severus up as the traitor he was, and he knew Morgana would never betray him like that.

_Why did this have to happen?_ he asked himself, furrowing his brow. Why were the ones he loved always the ones that were a danger to be around?

Something seemed to click in Snape's mind; his head snapped up and a look of realization – and hope – washed over his face. He placed the teacup back on the coffee table and threw his robes back on, not even bothering to button his frock coat. His black cloak billowed out from behind him as he rushed through the doorway and into the hallway, up several flights of stairs to the headmaster's office.

"Severus! This is an unexpected visit," Dumbledore exclaimed. It was amazing to see the old man already awake and at work at his desk, signing papers and reading over letters from the school governors. Snape was positive he saw a piece of parchment with the Malfoy seal on it, and could only imagine what kind of complaints his dear friend Lucius had sent in this time. "Is something the matter?" he asked as he gestured towards one of the chairs.

The younger man shook his head and took a seat, leaning his elbows on his knees. "No, headmaster, I have a question to ask you," he said quietly, as if the walls were listening. "You…you explained to me some years ago the……the magic that saved Potter the……that night." He lowered his eyes to the floor in a vain attempt to avoid eye contact with the old man.

Snape waited patiently for an answer, but all he heard was a troubled sigh and the familiar rustle of layers of robes moving about as Dumbledore came around and placed a wrinkled hand on Snape's shoulder. He quickly stood and escaped the headmaster's attempt to sooth him, moving to watch the sun rise from the dew-streaked window. Dumbledore came and stood beside him, looking at Severus with fatherly affection over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. Defeated, he turned and faced him, a look of desperation in his eyes.

"Severus," Dumbledore said in a quiet voice, "Lily was only able to protect Harry through the sacrifice of her own life. Your love, however strong, will not be enough by itself; you would need to sacrifice yourself for Morgana. And as much as I imagine you would like me to let that happen, I cannot allow it." He raised his hand as Snape began to protest, and continued, "You are too great an asset to our cause to be allowed to cast your life aside. As much as you feel this would be the right thing to do, it would take years for the Order to find a new spy and find a way to place him high in Voldemort's favor. No, no, Severus, I will not allow it."

At this, Snape wrenched himself away from the headmaster and shouted, "What right is it of yours to govern what I do with my life?"

"Severus! You will not do this, and that is an order!"

"I'm tired of taking orders from you, Albus!" The door slammed as Snape ran out of the office and down the stone staircases to the chill and blissful quiet of his dungeon office, doubling the wards on the door as he leaned against it and sunk to the floor, shaking. He ran a hand through his stringy black hair and sighed, staring at a speck on the ceiling that probably wasn't even there. A hand slipped into the pocked of his robes, and he pulled out his wand, staring at it, as if he were trying to see through the dark fir wood to the dragon heartstring laid inside the core. He swished it about angrily and watched as a jet of red sparks erupted out of the tip and a large spiderweb crack appeared in the wall above one of his bookshelves.

In all honesty, what Dumbledore had said made the most sense. The Order would be at a total loss if it weren't for Severus and his willingness to spy on the Dark Lord for them; giving himself up was a reckless idea. But it wasn't fair! Everything in his life had been gloomy and laced with hatred. Now that he had found a candle in the otherwise pitch black of his life, he was being forced to extinguish it.

"Severus?"

He looked out from between his fingers to see her kneeling in front of him in a black dressing gown, her hair tousled as if she had just woken up to find the space in bed beside her unoccupied. Her pale skin was glowing in the darkness of the dungeons, and he reached out a hand to stroke her cheek.

"I don't want to kill you," he whispered.

She smiled, although it was clear she was holding back tears. "And I don't want to die. But if there is one thing in this war that everyone is going to have to learn at some point or another is that death is an imminent part of it." Her voice echoed off the high stone ceilings. "Someone has to die in order for the rest to appreciate and value life that much more."

Severus looked longingly at her, his onyx eyes glassed over with unshed tears. "But that someone doesn't have to be you."

Morgana nodded her head sadly and said, "Yes, yes it does. The Dark Lord has singled me out as his next victim, and I have to accept that as my fate. I will not put the Order in jeopardy."

"You sound like Albus," Snape sneered, arching an eyebrow. "Did he send you down here to convince me to kill you?"

"No, Severus! I came down here to tell you that I've thought about it, and I know it's hard, and I know it's painful, but you have to do it," she said calmly, taking his hands in hers. "Some of us have to sacrifice in order for the rest to continue the fight. You have to be willing to make that sacrifice."

He stared at her, searching for some fault in her conviction to give up her life that easily, but he found none. She stared right back at him, her piercing amber eyes trying to give him the clarity to see what he did not want to see: that she was willing to give herself up to save him. Her long arms wrapped around his torso and embraced him, and they sat on the floor together in silence for a few moments, realizing that this was the last time they would be together.

She drew her head away from his shoulder and nodded ever so slightly, and they knew then that it was time to go.


	15. This Poison Comes Instruction Free

A/N: I am SO sorry about not giving you guys some closure like……a few months ago. But here it is. The final chapter.

CHAPTER 15: THIS POISON COMES INSTRUCTION FREE

Saying goodbye hadn't been as hard as Severus thought it was going to be. Dealing with the fallout of emotions from what he had been forced to do was, on the other hand, a death blow in its own right. It had been several days since her death, but he could remember every moment of it in precise detail...

Only other Order members were to know about it. Remus and Tonks both protested heavily, but Morgana made sure that they understood just what would happen if Severus failed. McGonagall was obviously upset, but kept her emotions in check as she said goodbye. Dumbledore, in his grandfatherly ways, hugged Morgana and told her that she would always be remembered in the halls of Hogwarts.

It was then that Severus took hold of Morgana's icy hand and led her through the cavernous dungeons into his office. A singular cauldron had been simmering over an ever-present fire in his private workroom, and when he extinguished the flame, the contents were an acidic green. It was quite obvious what he had been brewing, and Morgana involuntarily shuddered as she looked at the hissing liquid.

"Nightshade root, I imagine?" she had asked, waving a hand in front of her to waft the fumes away from her nose.

Severus nodded as he pulled a phial out of the cupboard. He rolled his sleeve up and filled the glass tube; the stopper he placed on it had a red _P_ written on the top.

"Poison," Morgana whispered.

Severus looked over his shoulder at her and said coldly, "I refuse to kill you with my wand. If I'm going to murder you, let it be by my skill at potions and not silly wand-waving."

She sighed and remained silent as they made their way back up the stairs from the dungeons and into the main hall, where the members of the Order were waiting to say their final farewells. McGonagall and Tonks were both weeping, and from the red in Lupin's eyes it appeared he had been as well. Only Dumbledore looked on the two darkened forms with pride as they emerged from the staircase. Severus would never understand how the headmaster mentally dealt with atrocities such as sending innocent people to their deaths, and it was not something he wanted to dwell on.

"You are braver than you know, the both of you," the old man said quietly as Severus and Morgana, both draped in black, glided silently past him to the giant oak doors. Severus recalled Morgana smiling briefly before turning away from the small party and clutching his clammy hand in her own.

The couple walked down the lawn in silence. The grass was still wet with dew, and a frigid wind was sending violent gusts at them; neither, however, seemed to care, as they stared at the iron gates they slowly neared. Severus squeezed Morgana's hand as tight as he could, desperate to feel whatever warmth he could from her body.

The gates loomed in front of them, and as they came within a few yards one of the doors swung itself open. As Morgana passed through, the world around Severus seemed to stop, and all he could see was the radiant woman, her dark hair whipping about her face in the wind, walking gallantly to her death. She had realized his abrupt pause in stride and stopped, extending the hand that had slipped away when he stopped walking. He grabbed it and pulled her close, his lips crushing hers. Desperation pulsed around both of them as she ran a hand through his hair and buried her face in his shoulder.

"I can't," he whispered, staring numbly at the phial in his opposite hand.

Morgana turned her head and followed his gaze. Her empty hand relieved him the duty of carrying her fate, and she kissed him again. "You won't have to."

Severus wrapped his arms around her one last time, and, placing his wand on the blemish on his left arm, whisked the both of them away to the manor. When they arrived, they appeared not in the hallway as usual, but directly in the appearance hall. Severus quickly let go of Morgana and shoved her onto the ground, a mask of utter contempt washing over his face, hatred clouding his mind of all other emotions. Fellow Death Eaters stood in a circle around them, and at the head was Voldemort.

"Welcome, Miss Cimmerii," he said cooly, his terrifying red eyes widening with excitement.

Morgana snapped her head up and glared at Voldemort. "You bastard," she hissed.

"Bite your tongue, child!" Alistair shrieked, and darted out of his place in the circle to deliver a slap across the face to his daughter.

Voldemort chuckled; Snape ached desperately to light Alistair's robes on fire and watch with glee as he turned into parchment. "Return to your place, Alistair," the Dark Lord's hushed voice echoed.

Morgana's father bowed to his lord before reassuming his position beside another, masked, Death Eater. The half-vampire in the center shook her head and stood up, clutching the phial in her pale hand.

"I believe my request was for her to be _dead_ when she arrived, Severus," Voldemort called nonchalantly. "It appears to me that Miss Cimmerii is quite alive."

"It will soon be remedied, master." Severus drew his wand and pointed it shakily at Morgana, who had turned to face him. "Drink it, Miss Cimmerii," he demanded, forcing his tone to be pure acid. Morgana, as planned, silently refused to budge, her amber eyes glaring with all the hatred she could muster. "Do you require assistance, madam? _Open the phial!_" he shouted as he took a step towards her, his wand dangerously close to her face.

Mechanically, Morgana's empty hand removed the stopper from the glass phial and threw it at Severus' feet. His black eyes bored into her ambers, watching as she brought the phial to her lips. With one last look that was full of every emotion she had ever felt for him, she threw her head back and downed the poisonous drink.

Severus took a few steps backwards and watched in muted horror as the scene unfolded. Morgana's pupils became dilated and her knees gave out from under her; the smack of bone against tile echoed throughout the cavernous hall. Her slender body began to spasm violently, and she clutched at her throat as the poison began to take effect and constrict her windpipe. A shrieking laughter came from the dais where the Dark Lord was seated; Snape felt as if he were going to vomit. He couldn't watch her suffer this way – but if he looked away, even for a moment, Voldemort would see, and would know of his treachery. And so he looked on, his stomach reeling as one final scream escaped her lips, and she was then silent. She stopped moving. Severus, unsure of whether her life had finally escaped her or not, leaned over her body and looked at her. The light that had once been so radiant in her eyes had been extinguished and it was unnecessary for him to check her pulse. She was gone.

"Wonderful show, Severus!" Voldemort applauded. "I do hope we shall see far more of the likes of that in the near future!"

"Thank you, my lord," Severus whispered in a hollow voice as the other Death Eaters filed out of the room. Voldemort sent him a menacing glare and waved a hand at him, signaling his permission to leave the manor.

Now he was alone in his study, a crumbled piece of parchment lying on top of the piles of ungraded papers in front of him on the desk. It was a small note, and parts had been blotted by tears, but it meant the world to him. _You are a hero in my eyes. I love you._ She had shoved it into his hand before he had pushed her away from him at the manor; it was everything she had wanted to say to him at the gates, but couldn't for fear of Voldemort seeing through his Occlumency. He stared at it and slipped a hand into one of the many pockets lining his robes, and pulled an empty phial out. Shaking slightly, he rolled the parchment and slipped it into the phial, sealing it with the same _P_-marked stopper she had thrown at him only nights prior.

The scraping of wood against stone echoed off the high ceilings as he got up and made way to his private quarters. Next to his large four-poster was a black mahogany table, the top drawer missing both key and handle. He muttered a spell and unlocked the incredibly difficult ward he had placed over it, and the drawer slid silently open. A blood-stained, black handled athamae lay next to an untidy bundle of black strips of cloth and some delicate slips of parchment. Severus stared momentarily at the blade, and a dull pain began to consume his body as he repressed memories of his initiation into Voldemort's inner circle. Releasing the breath he had been holding, he carefully placed the phial into the drawer, closed it, and sealed the wards up again. With another sigh, he stripped his robes off, slid under the heavy blankets, and slipped away from the hellish nightmare of his reality to the ones of his dreams.


End file.
